


The Grim Bastards

by Captain_Hazard



Series: Grim Bastards Verse [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Certain things stay the same but others don't, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gen, I will tag appropriately if necessary, Nothing triggering, Original Male Character - Freeform, Please let me know if there is, at least i hope not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 102,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Hazard/pseuds/Captain_Hazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Au of GoT that mostly focuses on other characters outside of Kings Landing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The relationships in this story were inspired by other stories, mainly the threesome pairing. It was something that I wasn't sure could work entirely but the author Silberias has convinced me that it does - and is actually one of my new favorite pairings. This story will be mostly told from the point of my OC named Torran Snow (Pronounced Tor-ren, like the king who knelt) but I will touch on other aspects of this world.
> 
> This chapter takes place after Ned Stark was killed with his own great sword, Ice.

Dropping the last guard he had rendered unconscious to the ground, Torran Snow rushed through the water gardens. His brother Jon had promised him that he would be here with their direwolves. But he could not see him or them as he took cover behind a pillar. The gardens were lit well enough so it wasn't that there wasn't enough light - they just weren't here.

"They must have caught him, you know."

He ducked just in time as a spearhead hit where his head had been. He dived forward to put distance between him and his attacker. He spun around and crouched, eyeing his one time lover, and close friend, Obara Sand.

"Bara," He slowly stood and began to back away. "You know why my brother and I cannot stay here."

"I do, and I would do the same if my father had died." She replied, giving him a solemn stare. It wasn't often that she expressed herself with nothing but a blank stare but it did happen.

"Then why do you stop me?" Torran asked her. "Why do you deny me the chance to save my family and avenge my father?"

"Because it is the will of my father and my prince," Obara said flatly. "They feel that you and Jon are safer here. I agree."

"Please Bara." Torran wasn't above pleading with his friend at this point. She shook her head and pursed her lips, eyes shining with a silent apology. Torran could hear the footsteps of the honor guard behind him. Maybe it was time to have a little fun, he thought.

He spun on his heel and kicked at a nearby lantern. Once his foot connected, coals and embers were sent flying at the guards. He grabbed the lantern stand while they were distracted and caught Obara's strike. They both blocked and struck at one another, Torran pausing in between each time to fend off a guard.

The only reason Obara hadn't finished the fight was because she didn't want to kill him if she could help it. Torran was also too distracted to give her a proper fight as he did not too long after they first met. Torran was well trained in Northern style of combat, and he had started to excel in the styles of Dorne and the Free Cities.

But Obara had trained in those styles for nearly the entirety of her life. She was never going to lose to him and she took her opportunity when Torran engaged another guard to end it. She cut him in the side with the length of of spear tip before using the butt of her spear to hit Torran in the back of the head.

He groaned as he was struck and he fell to the ground.

"Take him, stitch his wound." Obara grunted at the guards before stalking away, she needed to find her father.

* * *

 

"Did you find him?" Prince Oberyn rumbled at Obara while Nymeria stood at his side. He wasn't angry at her or anyone really but it was a stressful situation. He wondered if this is how his brother felt when he had caused grief in his youth before dismissing the thought. Even when he had moments of feeling fatherly affection for Torran and Jon, he mostly considered them to be his friends, younger brothers even so it wasn't fair to think that of them.

"He was hiding in the water gardens, I think he was waiting for Jon." Obara replied.

"Did you fight him?"

"If you could call it that," She snorted. "but I managed to wound him with a spear from the armory as opposed to one of my own. That was after he nearly lit the guards on fire."

"That boy," Oberyn shook his head in exasperation. "let him rest for tonight. The both of them."

"Where is Tyene?" Obara looked around for her younger sister.

"With Jon," Nymeria murmured and Obara rolled her eyes. Jon Snow had been the object of Tyene's affection for some time now. She had not taken anyone to her bed in the hopes of Jon being the one to join her. He had always been gentle in rebuffing her advances, but Obara was sure that was because he was afraid of what might happen should he hurt her.

He was a smart boy she thought.

"He had put up a good fight along with the wolves but eventually the numbers were too much for them."

"And our sister saw fit to lick his wounds," Obara wasn't sure why Tyene had been eager for Jon to warm her bed but she could guess. Jon was one of the more exotic looking men Tyene had ever seen and must have wondered what he was like as a lover. Tyene was like their father in that regard, always wanting to fuck those that caught her eye. Obara was more martial than the rest of her sisters, but sex was enjoyable if her lover was competent enough to make her call for the gods while they fucked. Outside of that she had no patience for many people - Tyene had more patience than her.

Nymeria just shrugged at Obara's words.

"My darling daughters, I need to see Ellaria and Doran. They must know what has transpired here. Head to your rooms, I will see you in the morning." He kissed each of them on the cheek before departing. When he was out of ear shot, Nymeria turned to her sister.

"How bad?"

Nymeria and Obara had always had the easiest of relationships, it just didn't seem that way. To those that did not know them it seemed that both liked to bicker with one another. That couldn't be further from the truth. They were so close that Obara's answer came swiftly even though her sister did not ask a full question.

"It is mostly a flesh wound. Enough to slow him down but nothing fatal." A mocking smile graced Obara's lips. "It will be some time before you can enjoy that precious cock of his, dear sister. The Fowler twins should be able to give the attention you need until then."

"Do not pretend that you don't find it precious as well," Nymeria drawled back. "I know that he made you smile after you two fucked in the Dayne's training grounds. And on several occasions before arriving in Sunspear. Not too many people could lay claim to that."

"The only reason that is known is because most of the Dayne's cannot keep their tongues in their mouths," Obara sniffed disdainfully. The Dayne's were a sore spot for the Northern raised bastards and her family for sometime now. Obara couldn't help but think that the noble house was falling faster than a stone thrown into the sea. "My point is sister that your lover will live. I know how much he loves you and how much you love him. I would never separate the two of you and will kill those that try."

"And I am grateful for that." Nymeria smiled at her sister before leaning over to kiss her cheek. "I pray that one day you find someone to make you smile always."

"That would be a waste of your breath," Obara muttered as her sister laughed. They both walked arm in arm to their rooms, chatting casually about what needed to be done to make sure that all of Dorne would be ready for war.


	2. Chapter 2

Oberyn Martell, his paramour, and his daughter Nymeria walked down into the cells beneath Sunspear.

"Are you sure this is wise, my love?" Ellaria whispered.

"When have I ever been accused of being of being wise?" He grinned toothily at her.

"Well no one would start now if they knew what you were about to do."

"And pray tell, what am I about to do, my love?"

"Essentially rile a young man that would have no qualms with killing you," She said bluntly and Nymeria bobbed her head slightly in agreement. "just because he lacks the skill to do so does not mean that he wouldn't try. His Dornish blood and his wolf blood work in tandem most of the time, instead of being independent. That is a dangerous combination for anyone to have."

Oberyn pondered her words. He didn't disagree with her, but he felt that he and his daughter could appeal to the young man they were about to see. His brothers plan had made sense to him, but his brother could come across cold and callous at times to those that didn't know him. He would hate to hear about his brother being injured, or their young friend losing his head by way of Areo's long axe should there be a misunderstanding.

Torran Snow, who was to be known as Torran Jordayne soon enough, was a simple person. He well and truly loved his family the Stark's and would not hear a word against them. Not even from the members of House Dayne, who could not keep their mouths shut about Lord Eddard going back on his agreement to marry Ashara Dayne, now Baratheon. It wasn't helped that he left her with a bastard who became Edric Dayne and married someone else. Nor was it helped by the fact that he killed Ser Arthur Dayne. The resentment was palpable between the two family's.

Torran kept quiet and endured their words for as long as his patience would allow at the request of his Lord father. It still didn't stop Torran from fighting members of that house during his cousin Robb's wedding to Allyria Dayne. The ale and wine flowed through both Northmen and Dornishmen alike and one word had set them all off.

Torran left a few of them with injuries that may never heal properly. He had only a few scrapes and bruises for his trouble. Of course that gave Lady Catelyn Stark the means to see both Torran and Jon Snow - who helped in the fight with many others - removed from Winterfell, and into the care of the Martell's. Lord Eddard had forbidden them from taking the Black and serving at the Wall and no one else would foster them because of their low born status.

Lord Eddard had been in contact with Dorne for some time even before he sent the boys there. Not that either of them knew that. He cautioned them both as he always had, Oberyn had later found out.

"Do not start fights you cannot finish and do not disrespect the royal family of Dorne. You will take orders from them as if I had given them. Am I understood?"

He had ordered them to remain in Dorne unless a raven had been sent by the Lord of the house to return. And they could not come back until then. It had pained their father to say that, they could see it in his face. They obeyed all the same, however.

Oberyn was always under the impression that Ned Stark found the lack of stigma towards bastards in Dorne refreshing. He also knew that his two boys and their wolves would be safe here. It was a shame that it might come to an end because of what happened to Lord Eddard.

"We should have brought his brother, or at least his direwolf." Nymeria murmured to her father as they neared their destination.

"Without Torran the beast would have killed those that tried to bring it here," Oberyn countered. "His brother may have been more compliant but I am afraid to move him right now." He ordered the cell guards away when he saw them - asking one to bring some chairs - and continued walking. He paused as they reached the end of the cell block. He then peered into the cell. "Torran, my friend."

The young man lifted his head to glare out at Oberyn. His skin color was that of Dorne but his eyes shone with his Stark heritage.

"Prince Oberyn," He said softly, an edge in his tone. "how nice of you to visit. To what do I owe the pleasure? Oh, I see you've brought company. Hello Ellaria, Nym. I would bow but," He lifted his hands as far as the chains he was in would allow. He gave Ellaria a wink and blew Nymeria a kiss. She did the same and Ellaria smiled at him.

"Yes, my apologies for that," Oberyn replied. "but the guards did not feel comfortable after you escaped from your room."

Torran leaned back against the wall, "If they had let me and my brother leave the first time, then I wouldn't have needed to escape." He cocked his head to the side for a moment. "Either you have them sedated in a kennel or they're not here, so what has become of Ghost and Stone?"

"There are in the kennels, no sedation. They are extremely angry, and attack those they do not know outside of family."

"Good," Torran's reply was flat. "nice to know that they haven't gone soft in our absence. Ghost hasn't been howling up a storm so Jon must be alright."

"He is in the cells on the other side of the palace." This time it was Nymeria that answered him and his eyes flickered over to her. His lips twitched slightly into a smile and she smiled slightly in return. "He is being watched by Tyene and Ser Daemon."

He raised his eyebrows at her before returning to glare at her father, "You have my brother being shielded by your lover, a knight. Your third eldest daughter and my brother's would be lover is also there with him. And here I have you, a prince, the mother of your children, and my lover. Speak plain and true Prince Oberyn, what is the meaning of this visit?"

Oberyn nodded, "Very well, I want you and your brother to stay in Dorne, indefinitely." The chains rattled as Torran lurched forward to try and rush to the bars. "Peace, my friend."

"Peace?" Torran snarled as he fought against the chains. "After what happened to my father?! What could be happening to my sisters?! Tell me why I should strive for peace?!"

"Because what is left of your family may die if you don't." Oberyn's sharp retort saw Torran still for a moment and a guard came back with three stools. Oberyn nodded at him but saw a patch of red appear on Torran's shirt. "Get me some medical supplies and give me the key to the cell and chains."

The guard did as he was told before leaving. Oberyn handed Nymeria the key which she used. She walked over to her lover and ripped off his shirt entirely.

"Now might not be the best time for that, darling."

His quip came out as a growl but she rolled her eyes all the same. Oberyn and Ellaria moved into the cell as well. Both paused to admire Torran's torso. Dornish his skin may have been, his size was something the Northern folk prided themselves on having. Strong and big, but not grotesquely so. They eyed his brand, the one he shared with his brothers Jon, Robb, and Theon, just above his heart. It was a cross laid over a diamond. He told them that it had been Robb's idea, a symbol to solidify their bond that could never be broken. All of them argued on what the design should be like until Torran had just made it it himself, having grown tired of the bickering.

Smacking his shoulder lightly, Nymeria said, "Your straining against the chain's probably reopened your wound." She examined him for a moment before nodding. "I will have to restitch it." She leaned in close to him so he could focus on her. "Please listen to my father, he means well." She gave him a kiss on the lips and his shoulders slumped but he returned it all the same.

He could never deny her a kiss or whenever she wanted something, which is probably why her father let her in here. No one could say that Oberyn was stupid.

"You are asking a lot from me," Torran told Oberyn over Nymeria's shoulder when she pulled away. "but at Nym's request, I will listen to what you have to say. That is all I can promise." He kissed his lover's shoulder when she smiled at him.

"Fair enough," Oberyn nodded as the guard returned. He handed Nymeria the supplies then left when Oberyn waved him off. "Now you and your brother must stay here and allow myself, my brother, and your brother Robb, to plan a rescue for Lady Sansa."

"What about Arya?" Torran demanded as Nymeria began to work on his wound by cleaning it first.

"It isn't widely known, but she is on her way here." Oberyn smirked as Torran gaped at him. "She managed to escape with your fathers great sword, thanks to her dance instructor and a young blacksmith."

"My sister would rather die than learn how to dance," Torran said faintly, smiling at the idea of getting at least one of his sisters back. "But whomever this instructor is, they and the blacksmith have my thanks." His smile dropped when he thought about the other part of Oberyn's statement. "Did she - did she see our father die?"

"It is not known if she had," Ellaria said softly. "but it is known that Lady Sansa did watch and begged for your fathers life." Her heart broke when a pained expression crossed Torran's face. She reached over and took one of her hands in his. "They will pay, my sweet, they will all pay."

"Who-" His voice caught in his throat. "Who was the one that did it?"

He hadn't stayed around long enough to hear who had done it, his blood had run hot and clouded his judgement. It was something he had unfortunately inherited from his blood father Brandon. Of course he inherited Brandon's boisterous nature as well. However, with the help of Maester Luwin, he had taken steps to tone down his behavior, after over hearing his father and his wife argue about him being his father reborn. He had used breathing excercies to clear his mind and think before he did anything.

Maester Luwin favored him a smile after every lesson, and not just for the ones he seemed interested in and excelled at. The Maester had been curious as to why he chose to subvert what was essentially second nature, so he asked.

"I hear my Lord father and his Lady wife fight all the time about my presence. She says I am Lord Brandon returned from the grave, but with a more savage lit to my blood. I believe she feels pain and heartache at seeing me, so does father. I don't want to be like Brandon. I don't want to sire a child then die before I can raise them. I don't want to be that foolish. And I don't want to hurt the Lord and Lady of Winterfell with my actions."

He had been one and ten at the time of his declaration. Maester Luwin wouldn't say it out loud, but he thought that Torran's decision had helped Lord Eddard's marriage to Lady Catelyn. The Maester had been proud of him for that.

Of course, when news of Lord Eddard's beheading broke not but a day after it happened, Torran's training went out the window. He had howled like the sigil of house Stark and Jon had been in tears. Both had been considered the Grim Bastards of Winterfell by the small folk, since for the most part they were quiet and brooding. At least in a fairly public setting, in private they could laugh and cry with their brothers if need be. For both to have lost their composure in public was a testament to how safe they felt in Dorne.

"Ser Illyn Payne, he was killed by the dance instructor, Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos." Oberyn replied to Torran's question.

"What the hell kind of dance was my sister learning?" Torran stared at Oberyn in bewilderment. He had already let Ellaria's hand go after squeezing it in thanks for her support. He adopted a thoughtful expression, "I wonder if Jon gave her the sword." He muttered to himself.

"What sword?" Nymeria asked curiously, looking up from her work briefly.

"Jon had a sword made for her before we were practically exiled here," Torran grunted when Nymeria's nimble fingers began to sew. "A large man could use it as a kitchen knife if he wished, but it was perfect for Arya. I never asked if he gave it to her - I was too fucking angry about being made to leave Winterfell."

"At least you were exiled to a place like Dorne." She returned as Torran hissed in pain then smiled at her.

"Indeed," He turned to Oberyn. "So that's one sister taken care of - what of Sansa? How do you intend to help her?"

"With marriage," This was one of the crucial parts of Doran's plan, and Oberyn needed to make Torran understand for it to work. "Sansa will be married into the Martell family. Such is the will of my brother and your father."

"Marriage? To whom, Quentyn?" When Oberyn shook his head, Torran continued. "I suppose Trystane will be fine. He actually knows how to smile." Torran found it strange that his father would have given his sister to Dorne, but he would ask on it soon enough.

"She will not be marrying my nephews, she will marry me." Oberyn ignored Torran's quip about his nephews but only just.

Torran's first instinct would have been to laugh, thinking that Oberyn was joking. When he saw how serious Oberyn was, he laughed still.

"My sister always wanted to marry a Prince," He ignored Nymeria's chiding words for him to sit still. He gave Oberyn a teasing grin so that the older man knew that the next words were made in jest. "I suppose she'll have to make do with you, the poor girl."

Oberyn barked a laugh as Nymeria rolled her eyes. Ellaria smiled, "She could do worse."

"How do you feel about this Ellaria?" Torran asked honestly. She had been a good friend to him and Jon. He would hate to see her be hurt by this decision.

"It is my hope that your sister would be willing to share Oberyn and herself with me, but if not I will understand."

"Though her Tully blood shines true with her features, she's not entirely like her mother." Torran began with a slight grimace, partially from Nym putting in the last stitch, and for thinking about his father's lady wife. "She is a sweet girl and a dreamer despite being seven and ten, you need not be worried about her mistreating you. Do be prepared for her to be potentially jealous of you, if only for a while."

"Jealous? Of a high borne Dornish bastard?"

"You have Oberyn's heart," Torran explained to incredulous expressions. Nymeria finished stitching Torran's wound and began to clean her hands. "she may feel that she will never have that at first. I am sure that when she see's how much love Oberyn is capable of, she will stop. Just promise me one thing Oberyn, as my goodbrother to be."

"Name it."

"I ask that you do not let those Lion's take my sister alive," Oberyn met Torran's glare with a cool stare. "give her an out if something should happen."

Oberyn gave a firm nod. Torran already knew that Oberyn would do everything in his power to protect Sansa. But everyone in the room knew that not everything went to plan.

Torran nodded back. He could be patient if this were to continue. One misstep would see him, Jon, Nymeria and maybe Tyene riding off to wherever was necessary for them to be. This he vowed to himself. But he would wait for now.

"There is more to discuss, Torran." Torran raised his eyebrows as Nymeria laid her head on his shoulder and began to rub his chest.

"Such as?"

"Why, your own marriage to Nymeria of course." Oberyn grinned at his daughter who grinned back. She then looked up at Torran who blinked.

"Was there a drunken proposal that I do not remember?" He asked her and she gave him a dry look.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really, no. It just seems so sudden and we pretty much are married." Torran knew that bastard children could marry in Dorne and not be ridiculed for it, but it never crossed his mind to ask. Mostly because he and Nymeria were bonded in spirit. "Though if there were drunken proposals made, I would have said yes."

"I know, and I so would I."

"So what name shall we take?" He mused, almost ignoring Ellaria and Oberyn. "A whole new one, or a combination of the two we have? Personally, Sandsnow sounds much better than Snowsand."

"Actually, these will explain as to what name you shall take." Oberyn reached into his shirt to retrieve scrolls of parchment and handed it to Torran. Torran took them warily for they bared the official seal of House Nymeros Martell. "Those are only copies - the real documents have been sent and filed with the proper people."

That really didn't make Torran feel any better as he unfurled the first scroll.

**DECLARATION OF INTENT: LEGITIMIZATION**

Torran's eyes widened at the words. Legitimization? He unfurled it faster and began to read. Apparently Prince Doran had seen fit to make him a legitimate member of house Jordayne of the Tor, the house his mother Estrella hailed from. It was signed by his grandfather, Lord Trebor Jordayne, whom he never met and his guardian, Lord Eddard Stark.

On the whole it made sense as to the how this was done, but not the why. He unfurled the second scroll and read quickly through it. It said he was betrothed to be married to...Princess Nymeria Martell?!

"When did you become a princess, my love?" Were the first words out of his mouth, as he frowned at Nymeria.

"When uncle Doran legitimized me." She whispered before kissing his shoulder at hearing his confusion. "It was not longer after...your father was killed."

Because she was Oberyn's daughter, her title would be Princess. And like her father, she would inherit no lands unless something drastic were to happen to her uncle and cousins.

"And I am to be a Jordayne?" Torran asked Oberyn.

"You practically are, but then you will be known as Prince Torran of house Nymeros Martell, the first of his name when you and Nymeria are wed." Oberyn was quiet as he observed Torran when he revealed that tidbit.

"Do not take this the wrong way for I love your family, but have you all lost your fucking minds?!" He almost howled as Nymeria began to whisper in his ear and ran her fingers along his jaw. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Why? Why would you make me a prince?! I'm nothing more than a Northern raised bastard!"

"There was an agreement made by your father and my brother, because Lord Eddard felt that a debt needed to be repaid." Oberyn's words rang in his ear's but Torran said nothing. "You were not the only bastard of house Stark that was born in Dorne you know."

"Yes I was," Torran stared at Oberyn as if he had grown a second head. "Everyone knows my story. Born to a mother who died on her birthing bed. Born to a father who was foolish and got himself killed before I could properly know him."

"Yes, we know your story. Now tell me about Jon's story."

"He's my uncle Benjen's bastard with a tavern girl he met in the Riverlands. It was the first time he had lain with a woman. She came to him and told him she was with child not long after. Lord Eddard saw fit to raise him alongside his brother, before my uncle Benjen was killed by bandits destined for the Wall."

Oberyn retrieved another piece of parchment from his shirt. "Now tell me if the story matches what you told me after reading that."

Taking the parchment as he had done before, Torran unfurled and read. It was written in someones hand that he did not recognize. It was addressed to Prince Doran, explaining that Rhaegar Targaryen had...taken Lyanna Stark to wife? Torran's face became more incredulous as he read before he looked up at Oberyn.

"Are you trying to tell me that...Jon is the son of the last Dragon?" Those were not the words on the parchment, but why else would Oberyn bring up Jon and give him his sisters letter?

Ellaria chanced a glance at her lover. His outward appearance was calm, but she knew that Torran's word had fanned the flames that had been tempered with time. Oberyn would never forgive Rhaegar for not saving Elia and her children, but he would never take it out on Jon. He refused the notion of harming a child for the crimes of their parents as being an option for vengeance. He was a viper after all, not a lion or stag.

"For whatever reason, my brother recognized the marriage long ago, and later Lord Eddard did as well." Oberyn ignored his question purposefully, Torran noted. "Your brother Jon, is actually named Jonnen of the house Targaryen, the first of his name. However, not everyone will recognize his birth as legitimate. Therefore he will considered a Blackfyre bastard by many."

"And since he was born here in an independent kingdom, and since your brother is the ruling prince, Jon can be made legitimate by his word alone." Torran almost scoffed when Oberyn nodded. In truth, Doran could legitimize most anyone given Dorne's independence. It was just accepted more when it pertained to the Dornish subjects. "Let me guess, my brother is to marry as well and be named a prince?" Torran drawled with heavy sarcasm.

"To Tyene, who has also been legitimized into a princess." Oberyn nodded again with a more regal air, silently telling Torran that he needed to watch his words.

"And what about those who know that Jon was Northern raised like me but has no Dornish blood? How will you quell those words when they ask why a Northern bastard was made a Dornish prince?"

"Most care not for Dornish politics, but we will keep word of your brothers status change quiet until Sansa is out of King's Landing."

Torran snorted and shook his head.

"My Lord father and your family have been planing this long before we came here, haven't you?" He asked, feigning calmness.

"Just my brother, but I can see the merit in forging an alliance with the North."

Torran could see it too, he could also see that Jon and himself were loved here. That a life here was far more pleasant than anywhere else. He wished that he could hug his father again, and thank him for giving his two boys this chance at a good life. But the subterfuge involved was...unpleasant and unkind.

"Given my father's last command, I will do my duty to Dorne as is expected of me." Torran intoned with a slight narrowing of his eyes. Everyone could see that he was displeased but honest and true in his words. "By your leave prince Oberyn, I would like to be the one to explain this to my brother. Alone."

"I should be there as well, to help." Oberyn insisted but Torran shook his head.

"With all due respect, my prince, my brother has been lied to his entire life. I will deal with his rage and remind him of his duty, as our father had taught us since boyhood. It must be family who should rectify the harm done by family."

After a moment Oberyn gave his consent, understanding what Torran wanted to do and not finding any problem with it.

"If you are ready to leave?" Oberyn tossed the keys for the chains to Nymeria.

"Has prince Doran allowed my release?" Nymeria unshackled her lover and kissed his wrists. He was mostly calm now, and he wanted to indulge in his love for Nymeria. But love would have to wait till later.

"You were never a prisoner, Torran. Doran would never treat you or Jon as such. Especially after you both asked your Maester Luwin for aid with his gout."

The Maester's of Dorne had tried to come up with a solution -permanent or otherwise- for Doran's gout. Gout wasn't all that common in Dorne despite what many might think, and they did not want word to spread to far about their prince being afflicted. They refused to give such ammunition to their enemies, even if their beloved prince had to endure crippling pain.

Jon and Torran had sent Maester Luwin a coded message within their letters to ask for advice. The Maester taught all the Stark children, true born or not, this trick he had learned when he was studying to get his chain. It was to prevent spies from learning any secrets they wished to not be known.

Maester Luwin sent them an old recipe for them to try and they approached prince Doran not long after. After explaining how they got the message out and the reply back, they gave him the recipe. They said it was a gift of thanks for being kind to them when he had no reason too. He could now walk with a cane for a certain period of time when before he couldn't.

"He's a good man, he shouldn't have to be bound to a chair or his bed for the rest of his life." Torran shrugged before standing, Nymeria standing with him. He eyed Oberyn for a moment. "You and Ellaria should come to my room and look upon my cache of Valyrian steel. You may pick a blade for your wedding present."

"You have Valyrian steel? Apart from the sword you were gifted by Lord Eddard?"

"A trunk full - Jon has the same." Torran looked sheepish as the three stared at him. "We were supposed to use them for trade if we needed coin or replacements should something happen to our swords. Father gave them to us before we left, saying that it belonged to us just as they did to the rest of the Stark's." The steel had been collected over the generations along with gold. It was to be used as emergency funds or trade should Winterfell need money. "He planned to give the rest of his children, save for Robb, their own trunks when they were old enough. I honestly forgot to bring it up because I had been distracted."

After Torran finished talking, Nymeria grasped his chin and turned his face towards her.

"You have been here for nearly a year my love," Nymeria quirked an eyebrow at him. "What has distracted you so?"

"Apart from your beauty? Just...Dorne in general. I love it here, and I know Jon does to, save for the weather." He looked over at Oberyn. "You are to be my goodbrother, and I owe you and Sansa a present. Take any blade you like."

"That is generous of you, Torran. If you are amenable, I know buyers who would interested in purchasing a few blades." Torran nodded his head before sighing.

"May I see my brother?"

"Of course, but you will need a new shirt." Oberyn reached for Ellaria. She took his hand but cupped Torran's cheek on her way out. Torran leaned down to kiss Nymeria on the lips and she reached up to do the same.

"Remind me to also give Bara a gift as well - something to leave her bed ridden for not letting me appreciate every inch of you until this fucking wound heals." He gave her a few more kisses as she smirked.

"You can still touch me love, it would be appreciated all the same." Torran chuckled and kissed her again before they both left the cell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is already labeled AU, but that comes into play even more so in this chapter with certain things. 
> 
> Thanks to all that have left comments and kudos. Thanks to Silberias for the kind words and for bookmarking this story.

Torran looked out to the moon from his room as he reflected upon his conversation with Jon from the day before. As he had expected, Jon did not take the news well.

"What the fuck do you mean Benjen was not my father?"

"I mean exactly what I said." Had been Torran's response before he had handed Jon the letter Prince Oberyn had given him from his sister. Oberyn had also gifted him with a letter from Lord Eddard which also detailed Jon's birth. It had not been handed to him before because Oberyn thought that one letter would be enough for Torran. With Jon it was a different story.

Reading the deceased princess's letter had done nothing to get through to Jon. But their father's on the other hand had left him shaking his head in denial and shaking overall. He placed both letters to the side and began to pace.

"Has my life been nothing but a lie?" He had growled through a trembling mouth, his lips pulled back over his teeth. Torran noted that his face seemed to change. His features became more angular and his hands seemed to become claws. His eyes flickered between gray and...purple when the light hit them. It was almost like the dragon in him was fighting its way out of his body.

Torran said nothing to Jon's question and was not surprised when Jon lashed out and struck the nearby wall.

Again.

And again.

And again, cursing in the High Valyrian they had been taught by Maester Luwin.

Jon snarled and clawed at the wall and only stopped when he managed to chip off a decent chunk of it. The anger bled from his body as he hunched over and started to sob. Torran approached him slowly and rubbed soothing circles on his back. Jon flung himself at Torran who embraced him as Jon began to sob harder. It had been moments before either spoke again.

"Why didn't they tell me? Why?!"

A single tear ran down Torran's cheek at hearing the pain in Jon's voice. He had explained that it was probably done to protect him. There were many houses that claimed to be loyal to the Dragon, but there were just as many that grew tired of House Targaryen. Two great houses thought it fitting to kill a princess of Dorne and her children. One for the power, one for the blood lust. Both thrived on the blood of innocents all the same.

"Dragonspawn is what your brother and sister were called by our father's friend when he saw their bodies. Why do you think father never spoke to him for so long? King Robert approved of what happened to them, and would have killed you too even if he loved your mother."

Jon had felt sick and heaved out his breakfast from his stomach at his brother's words. His mother had been a beloved sister and daughter of his family - and she helped tear the realms apart. Some would call her selfish, others would call her stupid. But Jon never had a chance to call her anything.

Torran had given him some water and waited for him to compose himself. He reacted in the way that Torran expected.

"I cannot marry Tyene - I do not deserve-"

"You will marry her and pray to the old gods that you may come to love her."

Jon shoved him away and glared, facing going red and his breath coming out in short bursts.

"How can you say that?! Do you not know what madness flows in my veins?! I will not subject her to that!"

"It has already been decided - you will honor what was agreed. Our father and prince Doran has made it so."

"Father is dead-"

Torran's hand came up fast and sharp as he slapped Jon. The smack echoed through out the cells before Torran spoke again.

"Father is dead yes, but just because that is the truth does not mean we will forget his teachings. You may be of Rhaegar's blood just as I am of Estrella's blood, but we are both of the North. And the North remembers all transgressions done to it - even from the Northmen."

Jon kept his hands clenched at his sides, glaring furiously at his brother. Torran half expected him to strike back but all Jon did was stare.

"We will honor him Jon - and honor our host," His voice had softened as Jon seemed to shrink within himself. "It is our duty as Northmen, to follow the words of our liege Lord. I know you have always been concerned about being able to provide for a wife and child, but here we have the means to do so. Fear not brother, our new family will not fail us but we will meet them halfway. I will leave you to your thoughts."

Torran retrieved the letters he had given Jon and squeezed his brothers shoulder, before he left the cell. He did not close the cell door but Jon did before he went to sit down and think.

Those that spoke with him in his cell along with those that watched Jon had been around the corner, listening. Torran was grateful for them not barging in as they had promised. The corridors were still empty so no one heard what had been discussed. Even if they had they were sworn to secrecy.

Torran gave Oberyn the letters back and gave Tyene a small smile. He kissed her on the cheek and bid her welcome to his family as his goodsister. She smiled back and gave him a kiss on the cheek as well. He asked Oberyn if he and Nymeria could depart as he needed to compose two letters - one to his sister Arya and the other to the new Lord of Winterfell, Robb.

Oberyn exasperatedly gave his consent and on the way to their room, Torran thought of what to say to each sibling. With Arya he needed to be sure that she was alright - as alright as any of them could be in any of this situation. He also needed her to give Ice to one of the Dornishmen that accompanied her and her party, and send it here. It then needed to be sent to Robb as soon as possible as it now belonged to him. The Dornish would see it sent post haste as soon as Prince Doran had given the order.

With Robb it wasn't as simple to compose a letter to. So much had happened between the last time they had written to one another. His wife Allyria had borne him a daughter named Sara, named after Lysara Karstark, one of their ancestors not too long ago. Theon had sent word that she was pregnant again and that both reached an agreement to honor Allyria's Dornish heritage with the next child.

Before Torran would have jumped for joy at hearing such news - now it was bittersweet. Their father should have been here to celebrate his grandchildren being born. But now he and the children would never have that chance and that had made Torran angry beyond comprehension. If he knew Robb as well as he did, he knew that Robb would have taken his sword out to the fields and hacked away at the trees until his sword broke - or until he cut down all the trees.

Fucking Southron swine, Torran thought with frustration at the time. He could blame that prick Joffrey Baratheon - or Hill or Waters, if rumors of his bastardy were to be believed - for what happened to his father but the other two were innocent children and may have been King Robert's true born heirs. Tommen had his father's black hair, but his mother's eyes. Myrcella had her mother's hair but King Robert's eyes. It was difficult to tell if they were actually Jaime Lannister's bastard children, which is why there was no call to arms from Robert's brothers.

At least that was what Prince Doran had told him when they spoke in his solar.

"Lords Stannis and Renly cannot risk a war with the crown if the two younger children are actually their niece and nephew." Doran's voice was soft as he spoke to Torran. "If they all had inherited their mothers looks it would be a different story. Both would have fought for the crown, neither being a good option for king, and the realms would suffer." He eyed Torran. "How is your brother?"

Which one had sprung to his mind before he said, "How would you feel if you had been lied too for your entire life in the name of protection, then found out that your blood parents were both loved and reviled by the realms?" Torran shook his head as he looked out to the water gardens, hearing children shriek in joy as they played. "My brother will be fine in time but still, he questions his entire existence now."

"Tyene will heal his heart," Doran murmured.

"But only the gods can heal his soul."

Torran never had reason to pray to any gods before his father died but he sent a silent prayer to any that would listen. Save my family, slay our enemies. A variation of that prayer had been in his letter to Robb.

Jon would come to love Tyene if he already didn't. They already shared kisses with one another, just not their beds. Jon was just afraid of taking chances as he always had been in the North. Mind you, being a bastard in the North was hardly a great thing to be. You had no name, no lands, no means of providing for a family which Jon truly wanted.

Which was why the Black was so appealing to him. He could have more brothers on equal footing and he wouldn't have to worry about putting a child in a woman's belly. Torran would have followed to protect Jon from the truly deranged fuckers that took the Black.

At first Torran hadn't understood why they had been forbidden from doing so but now he did. They were both to be housed with House Martell as was promised. Marrying into the family had been but an added boon that was a recent thing. Torran could believe that no one else wanted them but he still wondered why the Martell's of all people accepted the offer at the time. And Sansa would join them as well, maybe even little Myrcella Baratheon, if his ears had not deceived him from the rumblings he caught.

Torran wasn't stupid, he knew that the Martell's benefited greatly from this deal. Being able to come back into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms without giving anything up in return? Why wouldn't they want that? Of course they would pretend to be loyal for the sake of the deal, but Torran knew that they had no intention of keeping it. Except to the North, the rest of the Kingdoms could go fuck themselves as far as Oberyn and Doran were concerned. Torran didn't entirely disagree with the sentiment.

Torran looked over to the table where he left his art supplies after he gazed at the moon. He had been coming up with a sigil for his new family, trying to at least, just to see what it would look like. The most he had come up with was a green direwolf head with green feathers sticking out of it in an orange sun, on a field of red. He had come to the conclusion that green and orange did not mix well.

Green was only apart of the design in honor of house Jordayne, if only to acknowledge the mother that had died for him. He could have used gold instead but given how many great houses had that color, he thought to try something new.

A new sigil for Jon would be better to make. He could picture a white direwolf in the same orange sun on the same field of red. He and Jon used to joke about making a banner for the two of them - A white direwolf on a field of grey, their words would be Winter is Here if they had ever been legitimized and made a cadet house of the Stark's.

Torran sighed before glancing at his bed, a soft smile gracing his lips. There slept his love, naked as the day she came into this world. Nymeria hardly ever bothered to cover up while in bed unless the nights got cold. Her ample breast heaved every time she drew breath. She wore a smile on her face that only enhanced her beauty. He could see her sex, still glistening from their coupling. True he couldn't fuck her properly but he had been blessed with hands and a mouth and he knew how to use them.

Seeing her like this abated any anger or resentment that may have bubbled in his chest from the recent events. Irregardless of the meddling by their loved ones, he would always love her. He would give her as many children as she desired and give them all the world if he could.

* * *

 

"Mother, Arya is safer in Dorne than travelling on the road, my brothers and the Martell's will see to that."

Robb was tired. Tired from crying. Tired from talking. Just plain tired, and his mother was not helping. She was damn near unreasonable when he told her what some of Torran's letter consisted of.

"They are not your broth-"

"Yes they are," Robb snapped at his mother before she could finish her thought. Grey Wind growled from the side of the table at his words. His mother seemed shocked and hurt. Lord Hoster Tully stiffened in his seat and made to speak but his brother shook his head. "They and Theon are my brothers no matter what island or side of the bed they were born on. If my wife had not gifted me with a daughter I would have made either one of them my heir!"

That certainly seemed to perk the interest of many and having the effect of shocking his mother, Theon, and Allyria. Seeing their expressions, he addressed them.

"I've grown partial to the Dornish way of thinking in regards to heirs," Robb approached his wife and her blonde eyebrows shot up towards her hair line as she held their daughter. They hadn't always gotten along but they both loved their daughter and agreed that whatever problems they had with each other, they would never take out on their children. Robb took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. "It is much simpler to just take the blessings the gods have given us than to pressure ourselves into having sons."

"No one in the Seven Kingdoms would follow your daughter, only your son." Lord Tully snapped, mostly out of anger. He also forgot that in the the North a woman could inherit lands from her father, but only after her male siblings, not before.

Robb turned slowly to his grandfather and glared, "Then I suppose it is a good thing that the North, like Dorne, is no longer apart of the Seven Kingdoms. We haven't been since my father was beheaded by the son of the precious king you decided to put on the throne more than fifteen years ago. Of course that came after you conspired with your daughters to kidnap and nearly kill Tyrion Lannister."

His grandfather gaped at him, his mother frowned and looked close to tears. Robb hadn't meant to say it out loud but it needed to be said. He, like them, hated the Lannister's but he never would have risked the lives of his family in the capitol as they had when they staged their coup. Robb could see that the Northern Lords and Bannermen here agreed with what he was saying but kept quiet. The Lords and Bannermen from the Riverlands looked angry for what he implied but Robb couldn't bring himself to care for Direwolves did not answer to fish - they ate them.

He was happy that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton could not make it here, he didn't think he could stomach either man right now. What with Walder Frey's slimy, sniveling posturing and Roose Bolton's condescension. He trusted neither man, especially Bolton, given the rivalry between their two houses that had lasted for generations.

"Theon, Maester Luwin, see my wife and daughter to our chambers - stay with them until I arrive." Both men moved to do as Robb said with a murmured 'yes my lord' from them both. Robb kissed his wife on the forehead before she left. When they had left he turned back to the assembled party.

"Lord Robb I know you speak with grief-"

"Ser Brynden, what I speak is truth, what I wear is grief," Robb interrupted the Blackfish and patted the white armband that he wore. "I will continue to wear that until everyone that has done harm to my family is either dead or powerless."

"And how do I plan to do that, Lord Stark?" A member of House Tallhart, Ser Helman, inquired.

Robb knew that many of the Northern lords had come to love his father but his uncle Brandon was meant to be their lord. Robb use to hear his mother's ramblings about Torran being used to usurp Robb's birthright when she thought he couldn't hear. He almost scoffed at the thought. True, Torran was his uncle's blood son but he was also of Dorne - which gave many lords pause in regards to him. Some probably thought him 'savage' or 'tainted' despite his loyalty to house Stark and wouldn't have raised him up to be their lord.

Robb wouldn't have worried about that happening anyway for he knew that Torran would never betray him. Even if Robb did worry, his brother was to be a prince of Dorne soon enough. He reminded himself to send his brothers a gift after this was all over.

"By letting them know that winter has come - and that the North responds in kind to those that trespass against it." Robb said seriously as Grey Wind snarled in agreement, trotting up to his side. The Northmen shouted their approval at his words and the action of Grey Wind, a small number calling for him to be named a king in the North. Mostly because they thought there was no reason to bow to the South any more. Robb raised a hand to quiet them so he can explain himself.

"I had no aspiration's to be king as a boy growing up - I only wished to see justice served in this world like all my ancestors did before me. But the actions of a few have left me no choice but to declare us a separate entity, like our brothers and sisters in Dorne. I know that many of you think them savage, but I think they had the right of it. Their Princess Elia was murdered along with her two infant children so a man who whored more often than a whore herself could be a king.

"He may have been my father's friend, and he may have been a great warrior in his prime, but Robert Baratheon left Westeros in debt to the Lannister's and the Iron Bank. Who was going to pay for that debt? The crown or the people?"

Robb's information had come from mostly rumors and through some correspondence with his Father. Most of the people in the hall had not known this information if the looks being exchanged were anything to go by.

"And now we have another king in place, Robert's son Joffrey. I care not if he is Jaime Lannister's bastard son." Robb moved his hand in a slashing motion when people protested his words. "King Robert claimed him as a son, therefore Joffrey was his responsibility. My father loved Robert like a brother - and that love was repaid with treachery from a lack of a firm hand. My father raised two bastard children not his own with a firm hand and they both turned out to be great men. There is no excuse for what Joffrey has done."

His words did not sit well with his grandfather nor his mother, he could see but he also saw his great Uncle Brynden nod slightly in understanding. Robb knew that should he ask it, the Blackfish would help him make Hoster Tully and his mother see reason if necessary.

"I never wanted to be king," Robb reiterated his words from before. "But for the sake of my family, and for the sake of the North, I, Robb of the house Stark do hereby pledge myself as the King of Winter! Let any who challenge my claim step forward now!"

None stepped forward but the Northmen bellowed in joy this time and Grey Wind howled in approval. Robb held a hand up to silence the noise.

"I give my thanks for your approval of my position. For my first act as King, and to honor the union between house Stark and Tully," He gestured to his grandfather and mother. "I ask for volunteers to travel to the Riverlands, to help my grandfather remove any Lannister forces that had been placed there after the kidnapping of Tyrion Lannister. Should you choose to go, you will only kill those that mean you and our allies any harm. That means no killing unarmed men or prisoner's. No killing women. No killing children. No killing the small folk. There will be no raping of any men, women or children either! We are Northmen, not monsters!

"I will not have such atrocities committed in the name of the North! Anyone found in violation of these terms will have his head cleaved from his shoulders! Am I understood?!"

"Yes my King!" Came the unified shouts of the Northmen, the loudest coming from Greatjon Umber.

Robb wondered why it was so easy for them to trust him with this. He was an untested lord who knew nothing of war. Or maybe that was why they were so eager to see him as king, as a show of defiance to the South. Using Robb as a symbol as opposed to actually seeing him as a ruler. He knew nothing about ruling but he meant every word that he said. He would show everyone the might of house Stark.

He just needed to plan accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted there to be some POV from Renly in this chapter but I couldn't make it fit. You'll be getting him the next chapter.
> 
> Let me know how you felt about Robb, I had a bit of difficulty writing his part.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references physical harm and has a short sex scene. Neither are related but I'm warning you all the same.

Renly Baratheon looked over to Sansa Stark as she walked with her protectors near the gardens and almost smiled sadly. The girl had to watch her father die nearly four moons ago and then was forced to look at the severed heads of those who were loyal to house Stark everyday. She had already suffered bruises and cuts from being beaten and whipped when Joffrey demanded it. Renly had done his best to shield her from it in the beginning, but he couldn't protect her all the time. Especially since one of the few knights that would listen to him, Ser Barristan Selmy, had been made to leave the Kingsguard days after Joffrey took the crown.

So he employed the help of Brienne of Tarth, a woman who had challenged his lover, Ser Loras Tyrell, to a match prior to the tournament for Lord Eddard being named the King's Hand. Her reward for winning was to become Renly's sworn sword. Loras hadn't taken her seriously and was surprised when she disarmed him quickly enough and he was forced to yield when she held her sword to his throat.

Renly asked her to watch over Sansa, and become her sworn sword instead. For the most part Brienne had been absolutely brilliant in her protection of the northern girl or Princess if you believed in the North's independence. The only hiccup had been early on in her tenure when Ser Meryn of house Trant and a few members of the Kingsguard ambushed them. Brienne's eyes were almost swollen shut after she had been beaten and Sansa had been whipped bloody. It took them nearly a fortnight to heal and Renly had been furious over the way they had been treated. All his so called nephew did was sneer and claim that Sansa needed to be punished for her brother's defiance and treason.

Robb Stark, King of Winter had proven to be a brilliant tactician and warrior so far. He already decimated nearly half of the Lannister's forces with his Bannermen and those who had sworn themselves to their cause. His forces even had Jaime Lannister kidnapped and taken hostage. There was even talk of him being King of the Riverlands due to his Tully blood. The young King seemed content in keeping with the North though, having refortified his house seat of Winterfell before joining his grandfather's forces. He had somehow gotten his family sword back and many wondered just how he got it. Renly cared not as to how he got it, just as long as he made the Lannister cunts suffer, he was happy.

When Tyrion Lannister finally decided to grace Kings Landing with his presence nearly a month after Ned Stark was killed, one of his first decree's as acting hand was to assign his hired killer Bronn to help with guarding Sansa. He also said the northern girl was not to be touched by anyone without his or her permission. He also made his personal whore, Shae, something or other, into the girls handmaiden not that many people knew who she really was. He even assigned a few knights not involved in Sansa's treatment, like Ser Balon Swann, to guard the younger royals, even from their mother.

Both the Queen regent and the King had been spitting mad at the turn of events but Tyrion had pointed out that his father gave him the order of keeping peace in the capital - by any means necessary. Tyrion went on to say that Lord Tywin was willing to fight on Joffrey's behalf against the North and would help pay the debts incurred during Robert's reign. He tried to make them both realize that lord Tywin had gone through a lot of trouble for them and they should be grateful and listen to what was being said. Both blonde haired idiots looked like they had swallowed something sour.

Renly had to give the youngest Lannister credit, he knew how to make people very angry.

The court was against the northern girl, mostly because of what happened with her father. Oh how Renly wished that he had been able to do more for Ned Stark. He was a good man, if only stubbornly noble. Stannis considered him a fool, but Renly had come to respect Ned. Both of them in conjunction with Lord Varys had been trying to find a way to put Tommen on the throne. Ned had actually managed to find away in doing so by writing it in Robert's will until Cersei cried treason and had him imprisoned.

Renly offered to have him freed and make an escape but Ned told him to get his daughters out. He only managed to get Arya out with the help of Varys and two others into Dornish hands. Renly had been confused then, why send her to Dorne? He could have easily hidden her in the Storm's End but Varys told him that the late Lord Stark had sent two bastard Stark children there and had made arrangements with the Martell's. What kind of arrangements, Varys wouldn't say but a betrothal seemed likely.

So Renly wasn't entirely surprised when a raven came from Dorne, asking that they send Sansa there, to honor a betrothal agreement between her and Prince Oberyn. It had been arranged by Ned and Jon Arryn, he had been told, as part of the peace agreement with Dorne. The prince was old enough to be her father and already had eight children. Some in court thought it hilarious and openly mocked Sansa for her soon to be husband. Renly thought they missed the point entirely.

Dorne was to be allied with the North, irrespective of whether or not they were truly independent. If Varys was to be believed, they further solidified that alliance when they made the two bastard boys princes of Dorne, though that wasn't common knowledge. They also wanted to match prince Doran's youngest son with Myrcella, as part of the deal, and Renly urged Tyrion to consider it. Varys said it would be wise to bring Dorne back into the fold, and that this was merely a repayment of what happened in the last war.

Cersei had been against it and begged Joffrey to deny either match. One on the grounds of being made by a known traitor, the other because she didn't trust the Dornish with her daughter. Imagine her surprise when Joffrey ignored her begging completely.

"Let them have the wolf bitch and my sister," Joffrey had said with a cruel smile. "Send Myrcella to them, but Prince Oberyn must come here to marry his intended and serve on the small council. I was denied my right to break Arya Stark when she was my intended - but Sansa will stay here for I am not finished with her. He can enjoy what's left of her when I am."

Renly wished that someone would have killed the little shit after he said that. He prayed to the Seven that his new intended, Lady Margaery Tyrell, would be strong enough to deal with Joffrey. Tyrion reluctantly agreed with the plan, hoping to see both girls out the capital. Renly wanted all the younger people gone so they could be safe. He owed it all of them, especially Sansa for failing to save her father.

* * *

 

Sansa pondered the letters that her brothers had written her over the past few moons, given to her by Lord Varys when he could give them. Both had informed her that she would be removed as soon as possible and be wed to Oberyn Martell. They said it was what their father wanted, and the cover story was that it was arranged by their father and Jon Arryn. The truth was that it was done for both her protection, and because father felt the need to repay a debt incurred by their aunt Lyanna.

Neither had told her what that debt was, but she guessed that it had something to do with prince Rhaegar. After all, what else could it have been?

She took comfort in their letters, and the honesty in them. They gave her no honeyed words and false promises but what she needed to hear. They told her that Oberyn Martell was a dangerous man to his enemies, but his heart was big and he wished to share his love with those that would let him, even Sansa.

They told her they had married two of his legitimized children, becoming Princes in the process and that Oberyn had eight children in total. Some were older than she, the others were younger. They spoke of his paramour Ellaria Sand, a bastard of a Dornish Lord who bore him four of his eight children. They did not tell her this to be cautious, but to simply relay the fact that Oberyn so loved another, but both were willing to love her.

If she didn't have the support she had now, Sansa would have questioned the idea of someone loving her after all that had happened. Everyone in court spat in her direction, calling her a traitor. Some had questioned why she hadn't joined her father, and had her head removed. Now they jeered at her about being married off to the Red Viper of Dorne.

She was also given the truth about Arya, saying that she was with them at the Tor, the seat of house Jordayne. Her dance instructor and the blacksmith she escaped with were also there. Both had pledged themselves to Arya, and by extension, the unified houses of Martell and Stark.

Their version of what was happening with Robb was far more believable than what was said in the court. Joffrey made claims that her brother murdered ruthlessly, allowed his men to rape and defile whomever they wanted, and that they ate those they killed. Sansa knew what he was doing - he was trying to turn her and the court against her brother. Such simplistic claims would work on the court, but never on her. She knew her brother - all her brothers- better than that.

Which was why she almost winced when she read that one of them was planning to come here. Part of her hoped it was Jon, he would have a clearer head when he found out what happened to her, if he already hadn't. The problem with that was he looked the most like a Northmen out of the both of them - who knows what would be done to him when he arrived. Torran would be an easier option to have apart from his eyes and temperament. He wouldn't bother with the pleasantries and would tear Joffrey in two with his bare hands.

Now Sansa did wince when she thought of her brothers.

"My lady, are you alright?" Her handmaiden Shae inquired with a frown on her face. Sansa shook her head with a smile.

"I am fine Shae, I promise," She replied and added the last part when Shae looked disbelieving. Shae still frowned but nodded and went back to her work.

The reason Sansa winced was because she hadn't always been kind to Torran and Jon. Or Theon really but they had been kind to her. They had even been understanding, saying that it was what was expected of her as a high born lady. And now she was being unkind again, thinking that none of them couldn't have been changed by what happened. She had to remember her promise that she made to herself years ago.

She had promised to never doubt her siblings - any of them. Because she could remember when Robb used to read to her at night. When Theon would help her with her lessons in history. When Torran would put her on his shoulders so she could see over the crowds of small folk when they had their little Tourney's. When Jon would always give her his coat on days the Winter had been unkind. When Arya would teach her how to have fun that their mother never approved of. When Bran and Rickon had reminded her to never stop dreaming of something better.

They had all been there for her, and she had no reason to think that they wouldn't do everything in their power to help her now. So she promised herself again, to never doubt her siblings - no matter what.

* * *

 

"How are you feeling, Prince Brandon?" Theon asked, holding a tray of food and Bran almost scowled up at him.

"We're in a private setting, you don't need to call me that," Bran grimaced before teasing. "How are you Prince Theon?"

Theon opened his mouth but stopped himself from speaking. It had been four months since Robb declared himself king and Theon his Hand, asking him to watch over Winterfell. It had been two months since Theon was adopted officially by the North through Robb's decree. It was not an easy decision for Theon to make for he still cared about his blood family in the Iron Islands at the time. Whether or not they cared for him was the question - and Theon never received the answer or any answer to that question.

Many letters had been sent to his father Balon over the years, and not once had his father responded. Not even when Theon became sick and was near death. So Theon tried one more time, and it was not his father who responded, but his sister Asha.

_If you truly are my brother, then prove it. Relieve Winterfell to our father._

It was a bold statement, one made to test him. And Theon had failed their test when he informed Robb of what his father wanted. Theon suggested that he send a force to Cape Kraken, since there were more Iron Born there than Northmen. It was a strategically sound place to send more Iron Born through unchecked. Robb took his advice to heart and then asked him what he wanted to do in regards to his family.

"I am with my family here in Winterfell, I have no other family."

And so Robb named him Prince Theon Greystark, founder of a new Cadet Branch like the Karstark's. Theon had been told that Robb chose that name to honor both the families he had come from, even if one family no longer loved him. Theon wondered how the Karstark's felt with him being made a prince over one of them. If the scowl's some of the Bannermen gave him were anything to go by, the answer was an unpleasant one. And in the Iron Islands, he was probably known as Theon the Traitor. He could live with that if those he cared about were safe.

"I've brought your lunch," Theon eyed Maester Luwin. "How has his therapy gone?"

"As well as ever, if he continues to be able to move on his own, he will recover faster."

"I am sitting right here," Bran said dryly as he wiggled his toes and rotated his ankles. "and can hear everything you are saying."

Theon chuckled and set the tray in front of Bran, who grimaced at was on his plate. Summer, who was sitting in the corner, moved over to her master, intent on helping him eat.

"Ah ah," Maester Luwin wagged a finger. "She will not be eating your food. The ash and clay mixture will help with your strength my prince."

"And the grain and honey were added as a treat." Bran's voice was still dry but he ate all the same. Theon was glad that his younger brother was getting better and may one day walk on his own. He didn't know who did it but whatever Lannister pushed Bran off the tower and hired someone to kill him, was going to pay dearly for what they did.

He swore to that in the name of the Old Gods. He swore that in the name of his brother Robb, the king of of the North.

* * *

 

Jon scowled at Torran who laughed at his predicament.

"I know your wife is pretty brother, but you know better than to be distracted during a bound battle." Torran reached for a bucket of water so Jon could wash the mud from his face after Torran tripped him.

A bound battle was something the small folk in the North did to entertain themselves. There were three styles to it, close range, mid range, and long range. Close range saw two combatants tied together at the wrist, one by the right, the other the left, and they could only use their fist or knives as weapons.

Mid range was the same except what bound them was a five foot long piece of rope and you could use swords. Long range was a ten foot piece of rope and you could use any means necessary to win. Most fights had been gone on until someone yielded, and some times they ended in death.

Both Jon and Torran used long range and wooden swords for their bout in the muddy pits of the Tor. Mud was tougher to fight in, but it helped with endurance. He and Torran had fought in mud many times growing up but didn't have much chance to do so in Dorne. Then the Tor had been blessed with rain and Jon was challenged to bound battle.

"Oh so you think that my sister is pretty?"

Jon glanced over to his goodsister who more a mock scowl and her eyes glittered with mischief.

"Do not fret sister, your husband merely speaks the truth," His wife simpered and she batted her lashes at Jon, the intent behind them charged with sexual energy. He ducked his head as he felt heat rise to his cheeks but he looked up when Tyene shrieked as she was pushed into the mud. She landed face first not far from him.

"Was that entirely necessary?" Torran asked his wife as Jon reached for Tyene.

"They look so cute when they match." Nymeria shrugged at her husband who sighed. He put the bucket near Jon as Tyene scowled at her sister.

"I'll see after you bathe brother."

Torran trudged off towards a stream that ran near the Tor as he wasn't comfortable with walking inside the estate while being covered in mud. He wasn't always comfortable at the Tor in general now that Jon thought about it. It wasn't because his aunt, Myria, the Lady of the house was a bad person, it was because in another life this would have been his home. Like their their lord father's son, Edric, he would have grown up not knowing anyone in the North. Torran often wondered why his late grandfather Trebor saw fit to send him away, so he asked at dinner one night.

"Oh Torran," Lady Myria had sighed then smiled sadly at him. "My father sent you away for a number of reasons, none of which were your fault."

"Such as?" His brother had asked calmly though his hands curled into fists.

"Your eyes were one reason, he said that if he could see my sister in your eyes, he would have kept you despite-"

"Despite my birth being the reason his daughter died," His brother finished when she stopped, clenching his fist tighter and drawing blood.

"That wasn't his-"

"Arya," Torran interrupted their sister. "Lady Myria was not trying to imply that it was my fault - only that her father thought so. If you will excuse me, I must see the Maester about my hands."

Torran left the terrace quietly with Nymeria and Lady Myria tried to apologize after they did.

"It is not your fault Myria," Prince Oberyn said soothingly to his friend but with a hint of sadness. "Torran asked a question that was always going to open up new wounds for him. It is better that he heard it from you than someone else."

Torran and Nymeria did not join them for breakfast but they did join them for lunch where Torran apologized for his behavior. Lady Myria told him there was nothing to apologize for. Jon and Torran spoke to one another later and Torran said he felt ashamed for moping when they had a sister who was stuck in hell until they could get to her. Jon understood where he was coming from. Both would experience bouts of guilt when ever they laughed or were doing anything that made them happy.

They didn't feel justified in being happy when their sister couldn't be here.

"Are you thinking unhappy thoughts again my love?"

Jon blinked as his wife's question rang in his mind before he glanced at her. Her face was still covered in mud but he knew she was raising her eyebrows.

"Just reflecting on some things - everything." He said then corrected himself when she scoffed.

"Well, it seems that I need to help you _relax_ once more."

Tyene's idea of helping him relax or distracting him usually involved a copious amount of sex. Which was something Jon wasn't actively against, but still felt was inappropriate when he would just get lost in his wife for a few hours. He and Torran preferred to brood in times like this, but neither Tyene or Nymeria accepted that as a solution.

"To brood or be Grim works wonders in the North my love," Tyene said to him after they consummated their marriage. "But here, to love freely is not something to feel guilty about - even with circumstances that we have."

Looking at her now all Jon could do was nod his head. He couldn't deny her and a part of him didn't want to.

"Good, get clean and meet me in our room."

Tyene headed into the house and Jon went to the communal baths. As he washed, his thoughts drifted to Arya and her companions. Syrio was a good man and a skilled fighter and he thanked the man for his aid with a Valyrian blade. Syrio almost refused the gift on the grounds that it was not necessary but he relented when Arya told him to take it, saying that he needed another sword.

The other companion, Gendry, also refused a blade saying that he was a bastard smith, and not a knight.

"Knights and warriors hold beautiful steel like that, not people like me."

He of course was shocked when Jon told him that he and Torran were bastards and were willing to teach him on how to hold a blade. He still refused but Arya managed to wear him down after a week, and he only took it so she would leave him alone. Arya grinned at Jon and Torran who did their best not to laugh at the young man. It wasn't said out loud, but it was suspected that Gendry may be king Robert's bastard. Jon had overheard Oberyn say to Ellaria that Gendry was the spitting image of the man, but nothing was done to him so Jon left it alone.

They're both good men, Jon thought as he grabbed a drying cloth and a robe, before walking into the house after taking off his boots. When he got to the room he shared with his wife, he had to get in and close the door quickly. Tyene stood in the middle of the room wearing only a smile and nothing else. When she gestured for him to come closer, he removed his robe and crossed the room.

The kiss he gave her was scorching and she laughed as he kissed down her neck.

"Take me to bed husband," She laughed then moaned when Jon licked her left nipple.

"As you wish my lady," Jon lifted her by her hips and she wrapped her legs around him. Placing her gently on the bed, he began to kiss down her body once more. Tyene threaded her fingers through his hair and sighed when he kissed her belly button.

As Jon got closer to his destination, he could smell how wet his wife was for him already. He loved how she smelled and thought she tasted better. So with that in mind, he plunged his face between her legs. He licked from the bottom of her nether lips all the way up to her pearl. He started slow then went faster.

"So good," Tyene moaned louder and she ground her hips upwards to match Jon's pace. Jon used one hand to rub her pearl to make her come faster and she arched her back when she did. Licking her wetness from his lips he crawled up to her and gave her a kiss. She never minded tasting herself on his tongue and kissed him heatedly.

She reached between him to grasp his cock and Jon groaned when she started to stroke him. She guided him to her center, rubbing the tip up and down her slit to gather some wetness, before she slowly helped him enter. Jon groaned again when he bottomed out and her walls clenched around him.

"Let the relaxation begin," She chuckled then gasped when Jon pulled back then thrust back in, starting what was to be the first of many rounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let me know what worked and what didn't. Yes, Theon is loyal to the Stark Family in this story. As far as I am concerned, they are his real family and I was gutted when he betrayed them. That won't happen here.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of attempted rape in this chapter. No actual scene is depicted but I am warning you all none the less.

Tywin Lannister gritted his teeth after reading two missives from his least favorite people.

The first was from his son in Kings Landing. Tyrion reported that though there was a bubbling rebellion among the citizens, nearly everything was in hand. The only thing that wasn't was his bastard grandson Joffrey. Tywin was not a stupid man, he knew exactly who fathered the boy the second he laid eyes on him as a babe.

"You and your brother will kill us all," He informed his daughter coldly when they were alone that day. "Be grateful to the Seven that your husband loves his drink for if he were sober, he would see that Joffrey is not his son. And what do you think would happen should he discover that fact?"

He told her that she would let Robert's child survive in her womb or they would all perish. Cersei put up the predictable protest but in the end, she gave into his wishes. Good thing too, since they only had to deal with a rebellion on two fronts instead of four. Tywin wasn't sure the realms would survive if Stannis and Renly Baratheon rebelled against Joffrey but he would have them watched none the less.

The second missive came from the young wolf Robb Stark, offering Tywin a deal. Draw back their forces, and Jaime would be released unharmed. Tywin would have scoffed and pushed further North, but what was left of their forces already lost the Twins and were about to lose Riverrun. Not to mention that his brother Kevan was badly wounded and may not survive. This young lord wasn't as arrogant as some would think him to be, save for the fact that he thought himself a king. Tywin wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was slightly impressed by both men, especially his son.

The Warden of the West was very tempted to ally himself with the other rebellious front, the Iron Islands, before dismissing the thought. Balon Greyjoy only bent the knee to Robert and wouldn't do so to a king that had everyone else fight his battles for him. Tywin couldn't even promise to get his son back for him because his son practically severed all ties with Balon. If he could secure an alliance with Balon Greyjoy, they both could take Winterfell, but Tywin had nothing to give in return.

He growled audibly and poured himself a goblet of wine. He really needed a way to gain some ground before he lost anything else.

* * *

 

Doran looked over a new letter from House Dayne, or rather, Gerold Dayne, asking for his daughter's hand in marriage. Doran lazily glanced over the letter before he crumpled it and threw it into a nearby fire. He snorted in disgust before looking to the next letter, this one from Sandstone.

"Something wrong, my prince?" Areo asked Doran as he flexed his fingers. Doran marveled at how they were no longer red and gnarled and that he could move them without flinching.

"The Darkstar thinks to ask for my daughters hand after his appalling actions towards my nephews." Edric Dayne had invited Oberyn, the boys, and their party to Starfall when they first came to Dorne, in an attempt to get to know his Northern family. It was a noble effort that was unfortunately soured by bitterness from people who had no right to be bitter. If anyone had a right to be bitter about what Jon Arryn had done to get the Stark's allied with the Tully's, it was Ashara Baratheon. While she may have not forgotten what was done to her due to Jon Arryn's manipulations, she was wise enough to keep it to herself.

"I do believe that Jon handled it well, my Prince. They both did."

Doran made a noise in the back of his throat but otherwise said nothing. The Darkstar was a fool who thought his blood to be like poison, and that anyone would be wise to not harm him. Jon had managed to tolerate Ser Gerold's hostilities better than Torran, which made it more surprising that it was Jon who challenged the Darkstar and won. Doran could only imagine the surprise and agony Ser Gerold was in when he lost most of his right ear, his right eye, and had a horrific scar on that side of his face.

"I will have to write to Lord Dayne about this, has anything happened with our party heading to Kings Landing?" Oberyn had been travelling for nearly a month, his time cut short by being allowed to cross through the Stormlands instead of having to sail all the way to the Capitol.

"They should arrive in the Capitol in the next two days. Apparently they picked up a stray along the way in the Stormlands."

"What kind of stray?" Doran looked up from the letter he was reading to stare at the head of his honor guard. He was also in a similar position to that of Varys, gaining information through a spy network that Doran built in his youth but could not actively maintain due to his gout.

"A serving girl from Bronzegate, she was nearly raped by a supposed knight of house Swygert. Torran took the fiend's hands and Nymeria took his manhood. They claimed the girl under their protection and she has been with them ever since. She rides with the two of them and only them."

"And this girl, what is her name?"

"Rebekah Storm, my prince. She is Lord Rychard Buckler's natural born daughter."

"And Lord Buckler did not protest such an action?"

"Your brother, your niece, and your nephew did not give him a choice."

Of course they didn't, Doran thought, not unkindly. Oberyn - and anyone with a conscience really - had very little tolerance for those who commit rape or try too. Whatever Lord Buckler may have said to try and sway them, he was never going to win that argument.

"Have either of them claimed her as their paramour as well?" Doran wouldn't care if they did but where they were going, it would be difficult to express their love.

"It was not said explicitly, but it was implied."

Doran merely nodded his head and shuffled some papers around so Arianne could look over them later when she returned.

"How has Torran taken to the dye and ointment he was given for his disguise?"

"Well enough and without complaint, my prince."

Torran was said to have dyed his hair to that of a dark red, and sheared the underside of it to match a certain hairstyle from the Free Cities while leaving the top long. The ointment in question was to be rubbed in the eyes, the effects would mimic the look of someone who lost their sight. The person using the ointment would still be able to see, just not very far. It was easy enough to wash out should he need to.

It had been Nymeria's plan for him to disguise himself, at least his eyes but it was taken a step further and he was given an alias. His new identity would be Alystar Borrsen from Norvos, a new member of the Dornish honor guard who accompanied Oberyn to Kings Landing, and would serve him just as Areo served Doran. Torran even had a snake carved into his right arm, with the head starting at where his shoulder and chest met, the body wrapping around his arm, and ending at his forearm. He added soot to the wound to make the snake stand out and had to fight off a fever because of it.

Doran had been told that Torran was willing to do anything to throw suspicion off of himself to save his sister. Even if it meant that he had to learn a different dialect and language or scar his body to do it. Doran worried for him, but another part of him was proud to call him nephew. Even if it was only by law.

"Good. What of Myrcella?"

"She seems to have gotten along well with princess Arya, but she remains shy all the same."

"That is to be expected, she is in a foreign country." Myrcella went to the Tor first then came to Sunspear to meet Trystane. Whatever anyone had told before she came here had made her extremely nervous. Doran would have wondered why no knights had joined her on her journey, if he hadn't known that none could be spared. Instead, he sent a contingent to meet her and protect her, to make sure that she was safe.

Doran had to give the Lannister bastard some credit, he wasn't entirely sure as to how he would proceed when he sent the Raven to Kings Landing. Sending Myrcella here seemed to be expected and asking Oberyn to go to the Capitol in return was almost a master stroke. Too bad for Joffrey that both actions had been anticipated and preparations were made in advance.

"Any news on Ser Barristan?"

"He and your son the Prince have neared Braavos thanks to some good wind." Areo eyed Doran for a moment. "May I speak freely, my prince?"

"Of course old friend. Tell me, what is on your mind?"

"Is it wise to ally ourselves with the young dragon princess?" At Doran's raised eyebrow, he continued. "From what you have told me, that girl has suffered her entire life. What is to stop her from taking it out on the rest of the world?"

"Absolutely nothing, but we must have faith that Quentyn and Ser Barristan can convince her of what needs to be done."

When Doran invited Ser Barristan to Dorne after his release from the Kingsguard, he knew that his work was cut out for him. The old knight was weary of coming so far south, especially to the birth place of his beloved princess. Doran was actually happy that Oberyn already left, he wasn't sure that his brother could keep his temper in check if he stayed to meet Ser Barristan.

Oberyn had little love for those that served the Kingsguard during Robert's reign as king. As far as he was concerned, they were not true knights if they could allow their sister, her children, and Lyanna Stark to die in the name of house Targaryen. With Doran it was not that simple, for Doran understood duty better than his brother, but even he had trouble reconciling that with Ser Barristan.

The man had been loyal to the Dragon, then the Stag, yet he claimed to have been loyal to house Targaryen always.

"Then why did you let my sister's death go unpunished?" He had asked the knight the day he arrived in the water gardens.

"Because what can one knight do against an entire rebellion?" Ser Barristan had answered with regret and tears shining in his eyes but never falling. "I loved your sister and her husband as if they were my own children. Princess Rhaenys used to call me papa when we were alone because she thought of me as her grandfather. I held Aegon in my arms after he was born. If I could have done anything, I would have, for them."

"Even kill Robert?"

"When I heard that he smiled at their bodies, I almost did. If I had been in the room when he did it, I would have killed him or died trying."

Doran could see that he was telling the truth - or deluded himself into thinking that was the truth- by the look in the old man's eyes. So Doran gave him a task, take his son to meet his intended Daenerys Stormborn, and help restore the alliance between the two great houses. The old knight had been hesitant, not because he didn't want a Targaryen on the throne, but because he knew nothing about the girl. Doran provided what he could including the fact that the girl had been pregnant, though whether the babe survived was unclear. He refused to tell him about Jon though, and his nephews heritage would remain a secret until Jon wished it otherwise.

"If you say so my prince," Areo's face was blank as he said the words. Doran knew his friend long enough to know that Areo still had his reservations, but would keep them to himself.

Doran read the next few letters in silence but he couldn't stop thinking about the family that was going into enemy territory. He had said goodbye to them for what may have been the last time so long ago, and he took solace in the letters they sent. He just prayed that the gods smiled upon them but even he knew that they could be fickle.

* * *

 

Nymeria glanced at her husband who rode with their lover sitting in front of him. Neither had planned on taking a paramour, especially Torran. He never stopped her from taking a lover to bed even before they got married. He wouldn't take any of his own without her express permission, and even when he did, he would only take them if she were there.

"My heart sings when you smile, my cock aches for your sheath when we've gone to long without each other. I am happy with you and I need no one else." Had been his explanation as to why he refused to take a lover without her. As blunt as it was, Nymeria was touched by his words. She knew that in another life he could have been with her sister, but both had been content with the time they shared and did not seek one another out except in the name of friendship.

And then they met Rebekah, who was decidedly a Stormlander, with her dark hair and sky blue eyes that always seemed to be on either her or Torran. Her smile, even the smallest of smiles, could brighten your day. All three had shared enough wine and kisses with each other as discreetly as possible while they stayed at Bronzegate. Rebekah seemed to be slip of a girl, but both had been drawn to her charm and her pretty face.

Unfortunately, so was a Stormlander pig who thought himself a knight. Rebekah put up a great fight when he tried to force himself on her, long enough for Torran to toss him aside and for Nymeria to get Rebekah to safety. Both then dragged him out of the Bronzegate and tied him to a tree.

After she had stripped the beast of his manhood, Torran removed both of his hands.

"Anyone can learn to hold a sword with either hand. This way he can't, after all, what use is a knight that cannot hold a weapon?"

He had explained it to her as the guilty party screamed himself hoarse behind a gag. They would have cut out his tongue but for the sake of Northern tradition, they needed to hear Ser Simon's last words before they carried out the punishment and then they gagged him. They left him far enough to not be heard but not far that he wouldn't be found.

The morning that followed saw everyone in their party make haste to leave a day in advanced. And both she and her husband demanded that Rebekah join them. House Swygert would be out for blood, and if they wouldn't get her's or Torran's, they would have Rebekah's. Neither she nor her husband could live with that.

Her father Oberyn had been the cool mediator in the conversation between the three of them and Rebekah's father. Lord Rychard resisted at first, but between the truth of imminent danger placed on Rebekah, and his daughters pleas, he conceded but not before swearing that should something happen to his only living child, he would hunt them all to the end of days.

"Should I expect more trouble from you two on the way to the Capitol?" Her father asked them both teasingly. He couldn't exactly reprimand them for he would have done the same. And he upset enough people in his youth to give his brother grey hairs, so it would have been hypocritical of him to do so.

They would have sent Rebekah to Dorne but Oberyn said she could serve as one of Sansa's handmaidens, giving her an excuse to be there. He also said to send her to Dorne now when they were so far away would be too time consuming.

"Remind me, why do we need to sleep in Baelish's whore house, my love?" Torran asked her in his mangled accent which he made up to cover his Northern one. Though he would claim to be from Norvos, he would also claim to have lived in the other Free Cities, hence the accent.

"To keep up appearances," She answered primly with a slight roll of her eyes. He already knew the answer, but they needed to make conversation as they rode ahead of the rest of their party with her father and Ellaria. They would reach the capitol by midnight and they would sleep in a brothel. Her father and Ellaria would sample the whores on display to further add to plan and pretend to be a certain way until they could strike.

"I still don't like it," She knew that Torran wasn't against whores per say, having lost his virginity to one, but he would rather be near his sister than in a brothel. There was also the rumor that Lord Baelish had betrayed Lord Eddard, but Torran said he would wait to see how true that was before he touched the man. He then looked over to her with his blank eyes. _"And I really want to get my hands on Meryn Trant."_ He told her in High Valyrian, hands twitching towards the dragonbone mace that Oberyn gave him to help complete his alias since he couldn't use his sword. Torran named it Sunfyre in honor of the sun in the banners of house Martell, and in honor of Jon's dragon heritage.

Meryn Trant had been the one to whip Sansa bloody they had been told, and he nearly killed Arya. Syrio had given the man a nasty scar across his face, thinking it more prudent to harm him and keep Arya safe. Neither Jon or Torran held that against him, because now they could kill the fucker themselves.

 _"As long as you leave the Mountain to my father, no one will stop you."_ Nymeria replied and Torran nodded at her father when he glanced back at them.

"Fair enough," He replied in Andalai, the common tongue of Westeros. He shifted his head to look down at Rebekah. "Are you alright?"

Rebekah turned her head to look up at him then kissed him once on the lips. With a smile, she murmured, "I am fine, just like I was fine all the other times you asked that of me."

"Forgive me for trying to make conversation," Torran's flat words were softened as he pressed a tender kiss to Rebekah's temple. He had always been soft with her, Nymeria noted, not wanting to take her fully until after they were finished with their task. He still touched her when she asked but never took it far enough and Nymeria could tell that Rebekah was becoming a little frustrated.

"You will be told everything in time, my love," Nymeria had whispered to her one night as they cuddled. Torran had gone to stand guard outside of their tent. "but right now we need to hold our consul for our enemies are everywhere."

That silence that followed was comfortable enough as they continued riding. The sun was going down and then Torran sighed irritably, drawing her attention. He was scowling at the city in the distance.

"You can smell the shit from all the way out here." He grumbled, breaking the silence, and Nymeria laughed along with Rebekah. Oberyn and Ellaria chuckled but said nothing.

By the time they reached their destination, they were all tired. Lord Baelish greeted them when his majordomo announced their arrival. Nymeria had to keep a grimace of her face at the mans oily demeanor, it made her feel like she needed to bathe even more than she already did. Her father had asked for a small meal and two rooms for the five of them. Baelish ordered his majordomo, a young man named Olyvar, to see that it was done.

Both she and Torran looked for any traps in the room as Rebekah took a bath without any screens. Both had been distracted by their lovers large bosom and the dark curls above her nether lips, but they managed to finish what they were doing and take note of strategic advantages.

"I'll take first watch," Torran grunted at her but she shook her head.

"We need to sleep," She narrowed her eyes at him when he made to protest. Even in the candle light, he could see how serious she was and backed down.

"As you wish," He would have added the words my love but they needed to be careful in this cesspool of a city. Nymeria moved to share a bath with Rebekah. Torran joined in afterwards.

* * *

 

Torran jerked awake when he heard a scream. All three of them did but Torran woke first, grabbing his mace, and was out the door when another screamed sounded through out the brothel. A babe was crying as well which wasn't entirely uncommon in a brothel since some of the women had bastard children often. Whatever was here had frightened the child so.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Torran heard Lord Baelish practically shriek and he was surprised. The man was so soft spoken that he thought him incapable of raising his voice.

"We are here under orders from the queen regent and the king himself," Someone shouted back and that's when Torran heard Nymeria right behind him. Oberyn had come out of his room and ran alongside them.

"Please," A woman whimpered and they rounded the corner. They could see four members of the Kingsguard. Two were holding Petyr Baelish back. One was holding one of the whores, the other was holding what was presumably her child.

The one holding the woman slit her throat to silence her cries. Oberyn grabbed a wine pitcher and threw it in their direction as Torran and Nymeria ran to engage the knights. The pitcher struck the ground, gaining their attention. Torran roared as he struck one in the side of the head, caving in the man's helmet and most likely his skull. He followed through with another blow to the head before engaging with another knight.

Nymeria slipped her knife in between the armor of another one before jamming it into his throat. She launched her whip at the knight her husband was fighting to distract him. It worked long enough for the knight to be disarmed and Torran caught the knight under his chin, breaking his jaw and neck.

There was one left and Oberyn approached him. Both Torran and Nymeria followed at his flanks.

"Give me the babe and I will spare you," He said softly though there was an underlining hint of anger in his tone.

"I-" The knight stuttered as the babe in his arms wriggled and wailed.

"I am Prince Oberyn of house Nymeros Martell, I am here as a guest of your king. Give me the babe and I will spare you." The tone in Oberyn's voice left no room for argument. The knight continued to stutter but could see the writing on the wall. So he handed Oberyn the frightened child then gasped. Standing behind him were Ellaria and Rebekah, both had stuck knives in the gaps of the knights armor.

"You-"

"I said that I would spare you," Oberyn didn't look at him, focusing instead on the whimpering babe. "I never said that anyone else would."

Ellaria withdrew her knife and dragged it slowly across the dying knights throat. She spat in his face then went to Oberyn and took the child from him. Oberyn walked to one of the dead knights and withdrew a dagger. He cut the outside of his forearm through his tunic.

"They tried to attack a prince from Dorne," He said to no one in particular before dropping the dagger. He turned to Baelish, "Only one managed to give me a scratch."

"Of course Prince Oberyn." Torran almost growled as he saw Baelish's expression, he wanted something in return for his silence.

"My prince, perhaps you could gift him with good steel. To help pay for the damage." Torran gave Oberyn a meaningful glance and his goodfather nodded.

"I will gift to you a Valyrian steel blade Lord Baelish, when the rest of my party arrive. For the trouble my presence has caused." Oberyn held out his had to Torran and he handed him Sunfyre after he wiped away the blood. "Use this as collateral in the mean time."

"Dragonbone," Baelish said indifferently as Oberyn handed him the mace.

"A substance that is just as powerful as Valyrian steel, if not more flexible," Oberyn returned, just as indifferent before he eyed the child in Ellaria's arms. "What is the babes name?"

"Her mother Mhaegen called her Barra," Baelish looked over to the dead woman. "She was one of King Roberts favorites."

The implication was not lost on anyone. This girl was another one of Roberts bastards. How many was that now, three? Torran thought to himself, thinking about this girl, Gendry, and one he heard about in the Vale called Mya. It wouldn't surprise him if the late king had a bastard in each of the seven kingdoms save for Dorne.

"I already have a daughter named Bara," Oberyn muttered. "So I will call her Alyssa, Alyssa Sand."

"That is a lovely name," Ellaria murmured as Baelish ordered his man to clean up the mess and tell the royal family that their guest was met with hostile intentions from wayward knights. "Hello my darling girl," She cooed as the babe managed to calm down a little.

"We will gather our things and leave for the castle." Oberyn muttered to Baelish. "I will return with your blade later."

Baelish merely nodded and everyone in their party set out to get ready to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it?


	6. Chapter 6

Robb looked over his battle plans with his small council when his mother and grandfather barged in.

"You knew she was to marry that whore of a man!" His mother hissed at him, causing all of his council to go still.

"I did," Robb said knowing exactly what she was talking about, before dismissing his council except for his uncle Brynden. "And I will not protest such an action. The worst that could happen," He added to cut her off. "would be that Dorne never raises their armies against the North and they keep my sisters there. It was one of father's decrees to ensure peace before he was killed and I truly do not see a problem with it." Really Robb couldn't, not even the fact that prince Oberyn was nearly as old as his father was enough to upset him.

"The man has eight bastard children and keeps his own personal whore with him always," His grandfather snapped. "I will not have my granddaughter dishonored in such a way."

"Princess Sansa is none of your concern," Robb told him coldly. "She was born in the North and is one of my citizens. Her well being and honor is mine to worry about. If a man with eight natural children and his own lover is the best way out of the capitol that my sister can get, then so be it. I would rather she have Prince Oberyn and all that comes with him, than stay in that gods forsaken city for another day."

"We could always-"

"What, raid Kings Landing? Like noble Tywin Lannister did after he finally decided to stop hiding? What would you have me do then, Lord Tully, kill the younger royal left in the city, prince Tommen? Nothing would bring me more joy than to drive my sword through Joffrey's chest since he is a man grown but I would not touch Tommen." He shook his head. "I know that your investment into the Baratheon family has not paid the dividends that you wished it did, but that doesn't mean we need to resort to Lannister tactics."

He had to dodge a blow from his grandfather before he drew his dagger and pointed it at his grandfather. To his pleasure, his uncle Brynden had done the same with his sword.

"Your grace," His pale grandfather began, realizing what he nearly did.

"Even if I was just a lord I would have taken your hand for what you tried to do," Robb's eyes had gone flinty, his voice even colder than before. "but because I know what happens when people give into their anger, and because you are not of the North, I will let this go. Try that again, and I will hold you to the same standard as those I have already beheaded."

Robb had kept his word when his men stepped out of line, having had to behead a few of his Karstark cousins, including their Lord Rickard when he disobeyed Robb's order to not harm the unarmed Lannister Bannermen. The man was wrought with grief as his two youngest sons, Eddard and Torrhen, were killed in battle. When Willem Lannister and Tion Frey, two squires, surrendered willingly, Rickard gutted them both before they made it to the cells.

His last words to Robb condemned him as a kinslayer, but Robb pointed out that he was not kin to traitors who went back on their word. Rickard's only living son, Harrion, agreed with Robb's judgment and ordered his men to not claim vengeance, even the ones in Winterfell. The contempt that many of the Karstark's held for the main family line had left Robb feeling uneasy.

"They will listen to me or they will die, your grace." Harrion told him after a council meeting. "My father did wrong and tried to shame you, but he in turn shamed our house. It will take my sister and I some time to fix that."

He offered to send some men from Winterfell to deal with the coastal front, and the rest back to the Karhold to help his unease. It didn't actually help, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something could happen to his brothers, his wife, and their daughter should they stay. He agreed all the same and felt like kicking himself when news came from Winterfell that the blasted Boltons tried to lay siege to the castle.

Only a few Bolton bannermen managed to scale the wall but couldn't get through the gate or get it open. The majority had fallen to Winterfell's archers before they retreated. Theon had one of his eyes gouged out, and his body was scarred by the sadistic bastard, Ramsay Snow and his cleaver. Theon managed to kill him after a fierce bout but he was bed ridden for days.

Ser Rodrik had died from his wounds, the blade used on him had poison smeared all over it. The wounds became infected during the battle and by the time Maester Luwin saw to him, it was already too late. Robb sent his prayers to Ser Roderik's daughter and only living family, Beth. She was the same age as Arya, four and ten, but she would do her house proud when she became the Lady of the house and new Master at arms.

He ordered Winterfell to be locked down until he, or anyone from his family went there.

Speaking of, "When this is over or if Tywin accepts my offer, the Northmen will leave your lands and head home. Should there be anything that you need I will send the appropriate response to aid you." Robb told his grandfather before taking his leave, not stopping when his mother called his name.

"What in the name of the gods is wrong with you two?" Robb heard his uncle say as he walked out of the tent.

* * *

 

Torran was nervous, more so than he usually would have been. He paced in the tent that Oberyn had set up and waited for his sister to arrive.

"At this rate you'll have dug your way to the other side of the world my love," His wife drawled and he paused to look at her. He opened his mouth before he heard someone approach the tent. He stood straighter when Oberyn entered and nodded at him.

Torran moved to a basin filled with water behind a screen and began to wash out the ointment in his eyes. He heard Oberyn introduce several people.

"This is Ellaria, my paramour, and our daughter Alyssa." Torran could practically hear Catelyn Stark screaming all the way from the Riverlands about how this was ungodly. He pushed the thought aside as he heard Sansa's reply.

"It is nice to meet you," She sounded a little nervous but her words were genuine all the same. Torran grabbed a drying cloth as Ellaria kissed her cheek in greeting.

"This is my daughter, Princess Nymeria, her paramour and your new handmaiden, Rebekah Storm. Nymeria's husband has taken to hiding behind that screen there. He is extremely shy, that boy." It was easy to hear the teasing tone in his goodfather's voice and Torran could tell that Oberyn was grinning.

Torran, having finished drying his face, rolled his eyes and walked around the screen," I'll get you back for that later, old man." He said in his natural northern accent, his grey eyes locking on to Sansa's blue. "Hello little sister." He greeted her softly and her eyes filled with tears.

"Torran?" She whispered and when he nodded, she gathered her up skirts and ran to him. He walked forward to catch her when she began to sob. She threw her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. He gently picked her up and moved to sit in a chair and placed Sansa in his lap.

"Let it out, sweet girl, let it out." He whispered as he closed his eyes to stop himself from crying while rubbing her back. It wasn't time for his tears right now, even if they were tears of relief at seeing his sister alive. He could feel the scars on her back through her dress and had to stop himself from going still with rage.

I'll strangle that blonde bastard to death with his own intestines and I'll make his mother watch, he thought while placing a kiss to the top of Sansa's head. He turned his eyes towards her guardians and offered them a small smile.

"Thank you both for your efforts in protecting my sister," He told them as Sansa whimpered causing him to pause. The man, Bronn, merely nodded back. The woman, Brienne, murmured that it was an honor to serve Sansa.

"Daemon," Oberyn murmured to his lover who went to the other side of the tent and grabbed two long swords.

One had a sun with a blue sapphire in the middle for the pommel. It had two crescent moons on each side of the cross guard and a white handle. The scabbard was dark blue. The other sword had a silver rams head cross guard, dark green handle and the scabbard was black.

"For your service, please accept these, as a token of my family's appreciation." Torran said then added firmly when Brienne tried to protest, "If you don't wish to keep them, that is your right but if you are going to continue to protect my sister, I will have the very best swords supplied to you."

Daemon held the sword with the blue scabbard out to Brienne and the other to Bronn. Brienne accepted after a moments hesitation. Bronn didn't touch the one offered to him.

"I'm not entirely sure that my employer will allow me to take that from you." Despite his words, Torran could see that Bronn actually didn't mind the idea of having another sword.

"Then your employer may have words with me about it," Oberyn interrupted what Torran was going to say. Bronn eyed Oberyn before shrugging and taking the sword. Bronn then held it in his hands, lifting it up and down to test the weight. He then pulled it out of the scabbard, just a little, to see the blade. Bronn's eyes narrow just a little before he looked at Torran.

"You want me to keep my mouth shut don't you?"

"How did you guess?" Torran asked calmly while Sansa hiccuped then looked up at him in confusion. Torran merely smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

"No one gives someone like me Valyrian steel without expecting something in return." Bronn replied to Torran's question. "You don't look like a traditional Stark though you claim to be her brother, and you came here in disguise, so I guess no one knows you're here. Which means you need me to be quiet."

"Very perceptive of you." Torran was giving his cache of blades out like candy these days, but it was a good thing that he had a rather large trunk. He wished that he didn't have to give one to Baelish though. That man made him uneasy.

"I haven't lived as long as I have because of my good looks - I've lived this long because I'm not stupid." He looked at Sansa and gave his most upbeat smile. "Don't worry my lady, I won't go flapping my jaws to anyone, not even Tyrion."

"Neither will I," Brienne grimaced at Bronn but gave Sansa a smile. Sansa bobbed her head at them but leaned into her brother and tucked her head under his chin. Torran continued to rub her back.

"Have you eaten yet sister?" Torran asked Sansa. She shook her head and he turned to Oberyn.

"I will have some rabbit stew and lemon cakes made for us all." Oberyn turned to his sisters protectors. "You both will join us." He left before they could protest.

"Sit, have a drink." Torran gestured to the wine pitcher. Brienne declined but Bronn helped himself.

"Been awhile since I've had some Dornish wine," He explained as he poured himself a generous amount. He took time to sniff it before taking a sip. He swirled it in his mouth before swallowing. "And it taste like absolute shit when its not made done by Dornish hands."

"Bronn," Brienne growled as the sellsword shrugged at her.

"Its alright Lady Brienne," Nymeria said with a small laugh. "It is not the worst thing that we have heard. Apart from you and my goodmother and sister to be, the rest of us only have noble blood but no lands and titles. Well, my husband and I are both Prince and Princess, but we will inherit nothing. So there's no need to be offended on our behalf."

"Indeed," Torran said before whispering to Sansa. "Is he always like this?"

"Always," Sansa hiccuped again but her lips twitched. "Its very endearing if you ask me."

"Your lady mother would die of shock if she heard you say that." Sansa gave him a light smack to the chest and giggled. "I was only speaking truth dear sister, no need to get aggressive."

Sansa giggled again before sighing, "I've missed you."

"You were missed too," Torran kissed her forehead again. "and gods willing we'll be out of this shit hole soon enough. I'll do everything in my power to see you out of here. Bastard's honor." He placed one hand over his puffed up chest. Sansa rolled her eyes but smiled at him.

"Should you really be so open with me right now? Anyone could see-"

"They won't come here Sansa," Torran said gently. "Yes we killed some of their comrades who tried to purge the capital of bastard children, but the Kingsguard are needed to keep the peace. The population in Kings Landing is growing tired of the ruling king and he needs all the protection he can get. He won't have them break ranks now, even if he would like too, especially against anyone that was involved in the brothel killings."

Oberyn told him that the four knights were tasked with killing any low born child or person that had dark hair and blue eyes. They were the only ones because the rest had to remain in the castle to help with security. The four they encountered had only killed one other person, a boy that was nearing manhood, outside of one of the other brothels. That gave the population another reason to hate Joffrey in what was already a long list.

"Everyone you saw prior to coming into this tent is loyal to house Nymeros Martell and nobody else. We are as safe as we can be in the capital."

Sansa nodded at his words but Torran could tell that she was worried. In truth, Torran was as well. The gods, both old and new, may be smiling upon them now, but soon they would stop. Then they would give them obstacles to get through for their own amusement. But he and Sansa would endure whatever came their way, they all would.

* * *

 

"Have you thought of a name for it yet?" Jon nodded to the sword in Gendry's hand as they took a break from training. Gendry added a silver Bull's head pommel to match his helmet with a silver cross guard and a black handle. The young man shook his head at Jon.

"How did you come up with yours?"

"I didn't," Jon said honestly. "When it was gifted to me by my father, Longclaw had already been its name. Its the ancestral blade of house Mormont of Bear Island. That family has been nothing but loyal to the Stark's since they were founded."

"How did you get it if it belongs to someone else?"

"The last person to hold this blade was Ser Jorah Mormont. He broke the laws of the North by selling poachers to slavers and was stripped of his title as head of the family. He left the blade behind when he fled, and his father, Jeor Mormont had it sent to my father as payment for what his son had done. My father gifted it to me along with Moonscar, Torran's sword. The only thing I've changed to it is the pommel and handle, which is lined with lead to give it better balance."

"That's some gift to get from your father," Gendry murmured with a slight frown. He had been told of who his father might have been, and he wasn't sure as to how he should feel about that or so he told Jon.

"What my lord father did was unusual for people outside of Dorne," Jon murmured back. "You'll come up with a name for your blade soon enough, try not to think too hard on it. My ancestor Bran the Builder simply named his great sword Ice and didn't feel the need to make it fancy." Gendry nodded thoughtfully at him.

Jon let his thoughts drift to the last time he had seen Ice. It was more than a fortnight from their short imprisonment, when he and Torran were summoned to prince Doran's solar. Almost everyone was there when the prince had gestured to a long black box that rested on his table.

"That just arrived," Prince Doran's words were soft, as both Jon and Torran snapped their gazes to the box. Torran moved first, and Jon stayed rooted to his spot. Torran opened the box, his back tight with tension as he lowered his head.

"I need a drink," Torran muttered as Jon went to the case to look before he closed it. Torran walked to a wine pitcher and filled two cups to the brim. He handed one to Jon and raised his own. "To father, may the old gods be merciful as he was their most faithful." Their cups touched and they both took a drink. Nymeria had gone to stand next to Torran while Tyene stood next to him. Both offered their own form of comfort while the others remained silent but observant.

"It will be sent as soon as you give the word." Prince Doran told them and they nodded.

"Good, it belongs in Winterfell," Torran murmured to anyone who would listen. Jon knew that if he had been legitimized long ago, Ice would belong to Torran as he was the son of the elder brother, and he was older than Robb by a year. Torran would have just given it to Robb as he was about to do now.

"It belongs in Winterfell and with its King," Jon had said solemnly and Torran nodded stiffly before raising his glass again.

"To Robb, the first of his name, King of Winter, with the blood of the First Men and the Free Folk in his veins, long may he reign."

They touched cups once more and drained them.

"So you will support your brothers claim then." Oberyn asked them both with a blank stare.

"The only reason my namesake bent the knee so long ago, was because of the damn Dragons that Aegon brought with him and his sisters." Torran replied casually. "Torrhen Stark wouldn't have sacrificed all those good people so he knelt. Let us not forget, however, that the last time dragons were in power, my grandfather, my blood father, and my aunt were lost to their madness as well as many others. Robb will not be party to that."

"If Daenerys or Viserys or whoever claims to be a dragon wants the iron throne, they can have it," Jon almost growled when Torran was finished. "But they will have it with one less kingdom. The North will not be subject to them any longer. They can burn it down if they want but they will not have our fealty."

"You have a claim to the throne as well Jon."

"I don't want it," Jon spat as he glared at nothing in particular as Doran's words washed over him. "I was raised a Northmen and I will die a Northmen."

"Why just the blood of the First Men and Free Folk," Nymeria asked Torran when an uncomfortable silence followed.

"The Andals never conquered the North just as the Targaryen's never conquered Dorne, save for the language. The only times an Andal made any ground in the North was through marriage. Robb cannot lay claim to something that has no prevalence to the North outside of language, so the First Men took their place."

"And the Free Folk?"

"There was a time when the Stark line nearly went extinct. This is how we differ to the Martell's despite many striking similarities. Bael the Bard, King beyond the Wall, put a bastard child in the belly of a Stark daughter and that bastard became the Lord of Winterfell when his grandfather died. The recent Stark blood is descended from a bastard child with wildling blood, and while the Martell's have legitimized many bastards, the main line has been Unbroken. Hence why I added that part as well."

They had been dismissed afterwards, left to sulk or grieve in their rooms with their soon to be wives. The story that Torran told did help Jon at times when he wondered why he had been cursed to be a natural son, instead of a true born one. Turns out that he was always a true born son, just from a mad family, which put his supposed bastardy in a new perspective.

"Did you ever find out," Gendry's words brought Jon out of his thoughts. "about your mother, I mean. Did you ever find out who she was?"

"Yes," Jon said flatly. "And part of me wishes that I didn't know." His mother had unfortunately not lived long enough to raise him and that made the other part of him mourn what could have been. He would honor Lyanna Stark's sacrifice, but he only had one parent that he wished to emulate, and that was lord Eddard Stark. Thankfully, Gendry seemed to be smart enough to know that the conversation was over and offered to continue sparring. Jon accepted and they both walked into the training pits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want people to be clear about something, I am not bashing Catelyn. I like the character a lot and admire her tenacity and fierce protectiveness of her children. Saying that, how she treated Jon in canon is inexcusable. Children, bastard or otherwise, don't ask to be conceived let alone be born so you shouldn't take that out on them. Take it out on the people who made them if you must.
> 
> Her father I have issues with as well. If I ever became a father, I wouldn't have made my daughter abort her unborn child. If she wanted to do so, I would support her because ultimately it is her choice to make. I also wouldn't practically sell any of my kids into political marriages for the sake of an alliance. Call me too modern or Liberal or whatever but that shit is just wrong.
> 
> If anyone has any ideas for what Gendry's sword should be called, I am open to suggestions.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two POV'S this time around. One is short and sweet and the other mostly consists of a sex scene. You have been warned.

Sansa swallowed down the bile in her throat as she held on to Joffrey's arm. As they walked to the high Septon and her soon to be husband, Joffrey spoke in a whisper.

"When the snake fucker is asleep tonight my she wolf, I will show you how a real man takes his woman."

Sansa tried very hard to restrain herself from scratching Joffrey's face or show that his words affected her. He had been saying things like this to her when they were alone since her fathers execution and now he had the audacity to do it on her wedding day. She wasn't worried though, she and her husband would join his party outside in their camp after this was over. She was still angry however.

It had been weeks since she met her husband to be, and in that time she could see why so many women wanted to take him to bed and have his children. Not only was he handsome, he was incredibly passionate and that stoked a fire in her belly that she had never felt before.

Looking to him now, he was smiling at her but she caught the look of hatred that flashed in his eyes when he looked to Joffrey. Nobody else seemed to notice though.

"Who gives away this woman?" The Septon asked when they reached him.

"Joffrey of the house Baratheon and Father of the Realm." Joffrey answered, stepping away from her but not as far as she would have liked.

The Septon murmured something and the ceremony began.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." He told Oberyn. Torran, or Alystar here, handed him an orange cloak that had red and yellow patterns woven into it. Sansa thought it looked beautiful. Oberyn wrapped the cloak around her shoulders with a smile and she smiled back, not caring about the murmurs that broke out when she did. Both then turned to the Septon.

"Your hands my lord and lady," Both she and Oberyn offered each other their hands. The Septon continued his murmuring as he tied a ribbon around their hands. In a louder voice, he said, "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for all eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." He instructed them.

Sansa looked into Oberyn's eyes and seeing the encouragement there, she took a deep breath and began to speak as he did.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Let it be known that Sansa of house Stark and Oberyn of house Nymeros Martell are one heart. One Flesh. One soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. You may kiss your wife, Prince Oberyn."

Oberyn leaned in for a kiss and she leaned forward to return it. It was short and sweet before they pulled back to look at the crowd. There was polite clapping from everyone not from the Dornish party who cheered.

"And now, to the feast!" Joffrey crowed which saw the opposite happen as the Dornish party clapped politely and the others cheered. Sansa was surrounded by Dornish guards immediately with Torran in front of her. They walked out of the throne room and out towards the gardens. It was done this way as traveling through the city wasn't safe at the moment, with small riots breaking out every so often.

"You will be out of the city soon enough," Oberyn murmured to her as they walked down the steps and past some of the Kingsguard. Sansa saw the Hound out of the corner of her eye and he gave her a small nod. Sandor Clegane was always going to be a rough person but he had been kind enough to Sansa. He would watch over her from time to time until Lady Brienne and Bronn were tasked with doing so. So she gave him a nod back as her new husband continued. "In a day or so." If he noticed what she did, he did not show it.

He had already told her that he was striking a deal with Tyrion Lannister to see her out after they married. He wouldn't say how he would see this done but his words now meant that the deal went through.

"And you will stay behind?" She whispered.

"That was part of the agreement yes," He answered and she tightened her grip around his hand. "I will be alright and you will not be alone. Ellaria, Rebekah, Lady Brienne, and Ser Daemon will be with you. Ashara Baratheon will also be there to escort you to the Tor. She wants to see her family in Dorne and she is taking her children with her."

Sansa wanted ask if that was a good idea before she thought about it. With Lady Baratheon there as part of the escort, there wouldn't need to be people from Joffrey's camp and no one would try and harm Sansa with Ashara Baratheon there. The woman had come here almost a month ago with her family and would speak with Sansa from time to time. She was kind enough and was willing to lend an ear with no one finding out what was said between them, not even her husband. Yes, Ashara Baratheon being with her was actually a good thing.

Joffrey was prone to fits of madness and loved to torment people but he was easily cowed with the threat of his grandfather Tywin who, despite being forced to retreat from the Riverlands, was still a formidable man. And as it was announced by the acting hand, the man was already on his way here.

He had no choice really, having gained very little ground because her brother's forces had been smart and drew them in instead of engaging them. Kevan Lannister had succumbed to his injuries and it wasn't too long after that Tywin had withdrawn with the promise of his eldest son being returned whole.

Sansa turned her head to husband and whispered, "Promise me that you will leave immediately after you are done here. And do not promise just for my sake, but for the sake of your family here and in Dorne. Promise me."

Oberyn said nothing at first, helping her walk to their table as the sun shined high in the sky. Only when they reached the table did he speak.

"You have my word, my wife." He gave her another kiss before helping her into her chair. The food was good enough she supposed but Sansa didn't feel like eating, and she only ate because Oberyn said that the food was clean having inspected it before hand. As opposed to the plain roasted boar here she would have loved it fried with some peppers and some basilisk blood sauce. The wine paled in comparison to the lemon wine she had tried just a few days ago. Basically she would rather be with the Dornish away from all of this.

Several people approached their table at a respectable distance do to their guards, to offer their well wishes and congratulations. They all sounded false to her ears, all except for the well wishes from Lady Margaery, who was let into their grouping after a nod from Oberyn.

"Oh darling you look absolutely stunning," Margaery kissed both her cheeks and gave her a hug. Margaery, like her grandmother, loved to play the long game but she was genuinely kind to Sansa.

"Thank you," Sansa said honestly before breaking into conversation with Margaery. Oberyn would chime in every now and a again but the conversation was mostly between her and Margaery.

"Have fun later," Margaery said with a suggestive wink at the end of their conversation and Sansa flushed a little.

Oberyn said that he did not expect her to lay with him tonight, and there would be no bloody sheets to give to a Septa even if she did. Dorne did not practice such customs like the bedding ceremony and since she was now a Princess of Dorne, she would not be expected to take part in such a thing. She wasn't ready for something like that just yet, but she would be spending time with her husband and Ellaria, who was quickly becoming another close friend and maybe something more.

"I believe it is time for us to dance, my wife." Oberyn stood and offered his hand to her. Sansa gave him a smile and took his hand, before they left their table to have a dance.

* * *

 

"What else would you like to know little one?" Torran muttered to a sleepy Alyssa who yawned. "Would you like to know about warging? Trust me, what little I know about it is much more interesting than what I know about a giant wall of ice."

Torran had promised to watch her so Ellaria could go see Oberyn and Sansa. She said that she would send for the wet nurse to come take her off his hands but Torran didn't mind so much. Alyssa was easy to watch and seemed to enjoy his company.

"Do people still warg in the North?" Rebekah asked from his side. He turned and saw that Nymeria was braiding her hair. "I thought that gift was lost."

"I'm actually kind of surprised that you know of it," Torran replied. "Most reject it as a children's story or don't even care enough about it." Of course, Torran was leaving out the fact that many who followed the Seven cut down weirwood trees and cursed those that worshiped the old gods as time went on.

"My father used to tell me stories about the North, his late wife was from White Harbor."

"Ah," Torran murmured, stopping himself from speaking when the wet nurse came in. He reluctantly handed Alyssa to her and she left humming a tune to the baby. "Warging is not all that common as it used to be but enough people have the gift, mostly among the free folk I'm told."

"Have you ever met one?"

"Yes and no," Torran frowned, thinking on whether or not to say anything more. He glanced at his wife who gave him a look that said she would support his whatever he decided to do. Deciding to continue, he told her the truth. "My siblings and I have experienced such things except for Sansa."

"You're a warg?" Rebekah asked, shocked.

"To a certain extent," Torran admitted with a small shrug. "I've only ever shared dreams with my direwolf but I've never controlled her. I wouldn't want to any way, she would probably take a bite out of me if I did. It's pretty much the same with the rest of us, though I'm told my brother Bran can control his direwolf." If she asked, he would tell her about the dreams that he shared with Stone but he would not share what the others saw, especially Jon. His brother had become bitter about his dreams of wolves and dragons, thinking that they were only dreams but now they knew what they were referring to.

"This knowledge is not widespread Rebekah," Torran warned her. "there are people out there that would decry my family and would seek to have us killed if it were ever known."

The North and Dorne wouldn't care but those that didn't follow the old gods? They would all march on Winterfell, or worse, stop trade with the North and let everyone die out slowly.

"I won't tell anyone," Rebekah said softly. "I promise."

Torran smiled, walking over to her to cup her cheek. She smiled hesitantly back before looking to Nymeria.

"Is something wrong?" He asked quietly with a frown.

"I-I have something to ask of you," Rebekah stuttered before Nymeria pressed a kiss to her temple to help her calm down. "I know that you and Nym will be here with Oberyn for whatever it is that he wants to do, but there's a chance-" Her voice caught in her throat and Torran sat next to her, his hands holding hers, with Nym giving her words of comfort. "There is a chance that you may not make it out of Kings Landing and I-"

"Yes my love, what would you like?" Torran asked her after he kissed her temple. Rebekah took a shuddering breath before speaking again.

"I will have my blood soon," She sniffed and Torran wiped away a stray tear from her face. "and I want to have your child."

Torran had actively avoided taking Rebekah because he did not want to put a child in her just yet. Even with there being moon tea available to stop something like that, he still wanted to take her in a place that they could be safe, like Dorne. Even now he didn't want to because if he did, he would want to help her through her pregnancy, but could he deny her? She never asked him for anything, never once complained to him about anything, and she was right about there being a chance of him not living after this new task that he was helping Oberyn on.

Grasping her chin so she would look at him, he said, "Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want?" When she nodded he continued, "I need to hear you say the words my love."

"Yes Torran, I want this," She whimpered and Torran gave her a kiss, sucking on her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She lets him in and he slips his tongue in her mouth, massaging hers as he palmed her breast through her dress. He pulled back and placed his forehead against hers.

"If this is what you want, then you shall have it my love." Behind them, Torran could hear Nymeria fussing with Rebekah's dress. He looks at her over Rebekah's shoulder and she nods at him, silently telling him that she was on board with this plan. Torran stood and started to remove his clothes, eyes never leaving Rebekah's. Rebekah stood on shaky legs as Nymeria helped her out of her dress. Nymeria pulled on one of the straps on her dress and she's naked as well.

Torran watched her fall to her knees between him and Rebekah, one hand stroking him, the other teasing Rebekah's center.

"Fuck," Torran let out a long groan before leaning forward to suck on one of Rebekah's breast. She moaned and fisted his hair to pull him closer. Torran groaned again when he felt Nymeria suck on his cock and pulled away from Rebekah to look down. His wife looked up at him as she took his cock into her mouth all the way to the base. Torran wasn't enormously large but he wasn't small either and it always left him feeling awed when Nymeria could do what she did.

Nymeria pulled off of him with a lewd pop, before swirling her tongue around his cock head.

"You will fuck her good," Nymeria commanded him as she slowly stood, still stroking him. "You will make her come and you will give her your seed until the day she leaves here."

"Yes my Princess," Torran grunted when she stroked him a little too hard and gripped his cock. She guided him to a chair and made him sit. He watched his wife play with their lover before guiding her to him. Rebekah's legs went over his before she lowered herself towards his lap. Nymeria gripped his cock again to help guide him into Rebekah's center. Torran knew that Rebekah didn't have a maidenhead - She told them she lost it lost it while horse riding - but she never laid with a man and Torran was to be her first.

Torran grunted again when he felt how tight she was, doing his best to keep still so she could adjust. She moved at a slow and agonizing pace downwards, but Torran was patient.

"Take your time," He heard Nymeria whisper to Rebekah. "Then when your ready, ride him into Oblivion." He watched Nymeria nibble on Rebekah's ear and he moaned when Rebekah shifted in his lap.

These two will be the death of me, Torran thought with another grunt as Rebekah began to lift herself up then back down. Her movements were jerky before she found a rhythm that made them both moan. Torran gripped her hips to help keep her steady before he thrust upwards.

"Yes, more," Rebekah panted, gripping at his shoulders.

"As my lady commands," Torran thrust harder into her, closing his eyes when he felt her walls tighten around him. His wife reached between them to touch Rebekah's pearl and their lover threw her head back with a howl. Her walls clamped around Torran's throbbing cock and he almost came right then and there. Torran grit his teeth before he gripped his lovers arse and stood up. He carried Rebekah walked over to a table and put her on it, fucking into her even more.

"Do you want me to bend you over, so you can eat and lick Nymeria," He growled out as Rebekah moaned.

"Yes," She hissed after one good thrust. Torran pulled out of her with a groan and helped her off the table before spinning her around. They turned to Nymeria with impatient looks. She grinned at them, rubbing her center.

"Get over here woman," Rebekah huffed as Torran lined his cock up with her center.

"What's the magic word?" Torran sighed as he re-entered Rebekah as Nymeria's words washed over them.

"Now," Rebekah hissed and Torran kissed the back of her neck with a smile.

"Try again my love," Torran moved slowly and Rebekah groaned in frustration.

"Please?" Rebekah whimpered.

"Nym," Torran almost snarled at his grinning wife who shrugged and walked over to them. She gave Torran's arse a smack.

"Go faster, I want to hear her howl again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to cut it there because I wasn't sure on how to end it and the other stuff I planned just didn't fit. This chapter might be filler more than anything, but hopefully there is enough content for all of you to enjoy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of disturbing behavior and gore happen in this chapter. You have been warned.

Nymeria and Torran ducked into an alleyway before leaning out behind a corner to peak at their target, Meryn Trant.

"Why is he traveling out of the city?" Torran whispered. "Do you know?"

"Varys told my father that he was on an assignment for the Lannister bitch, but he probably went to look for a brothel that will accept his ilk." Torran probably thought she meant as a member of the Kingsguard, since they weren't accepted in any brothel in Kings Landing for the time being. But Nymeria knew better, if Bronn was to be believed, and she had no reason not to believe him. As she and Torran moved to follow Trant, she thought back to her conversation with the sellsword.

"What can you tell me of the Kingsguard?" Her father had Varys to relay information but the spider was always keen on playing his games. Torran, as much he could be cool under pressure, did not have the patience for games. Nymeria did, but she would rather have an honest assessment from someone not the least bit intimidated by her father.

"Its filled with useless pricks," Bronn told her bluntly. He then seemed to think on it. "Well some of them know how to swing a sword faster than most I suppose, but they're still rich boys riding the mounts their daddy's gave them. Wearing curtains of white that make them seem noble when they aren't. The only one of those bastards that seemed to be more than an arse in a suit of armor was Barristan Selmy but I never met the man, just heard of him. And he's not here no more."

"What do you know of them personally?"

"Well, I can't confirm anything but I'm pretty sure some of them like to bugger other men, some like to fuck whores, and some can't get it up." He had seemed satisfied with his words, so Nymeria asked him more pointedly.

"What do you now of Ser Meryn Trant?"

Bronn's eyes had gone cold and his normal mocking lilt was gone, "That cunt is no Ser, he's barely even a man. I can't say for sure, but I know in my gut," He patted his stomach for emphasis. "That Meryn Trant gets off on abusing girls. I could see it in his eyes the first time I saw him.

"Lady Sansa had to appear before court when the news of how well her brother's rebellion was going. Her back was exposed to the court because she needed to heal and a lot of her dresses were covered in blood from all the times she covered up. Tyrion and I came in from the side, it was one of Tyrion's first days as hand and he ordered Brienne to take Sansa away. The fuck head for a king didn't take kindly to that and neither did Trant."

He paused and took a sip from from his cup.

"Trant snarled at the suggestion, claiming that only the king could make such a decision. But I could see that he was admiring his handy work. I could practically hear his cock hitting his armor with a ping every time he looked at Lady Sansa's back. When Tyrion told me to kill Trant if he opened his mouth again, I had hoped that the fucker would speak so I could gut him. I know I'm just a sellsword princess, but I've lived long enough to see how depraved men can be, and Meryn Trant is scum."

Nymeria had not divulged this information to anyone and asked Bronn to keep quiet. The sellsword agreed after getting her word that Trant would be gone before she and her family left. She never told Torran or her father because both would have made a bloody spectacle out of it. Not that she minded that sort of thing but discretion was their friend right now and it couldn't be put aside.

Even if Meryn Trant was entirely deserving of her family's wrath.

Nymeria glanced at her husband, watching him prowl like his Direwolf except on two legs, with his eyes glowing amber. He was never consciously aware of his behavior, even after he had been told by her, and it didn't always happen often. The first time she had seen his eyes turn to that beautiful amber color was the first time they had ever made love. It had happened so quickly and she had lit candles at the time, so she thought it was a trick of the light. Then she saw them glow again when he was training by himself.

He had been practicing some spear techniques and he had some trouble with one particular move. He was becoming incredibly frustrated, hands tightening around the practice spear. She almost went to help him when he growled, and the spear splintered under the force of his hold. Now normally that wouldn't give her pause but heavy wood was used for Dornish practice spears and couldn't be easily broken by someones hand. He must have heard her because he turned around to stare at her. That's when she saw that his gray eyes, ones that often reminded her of cold steel, had been replaced with burning amber.

At the time he had been horrified by what she described to him. He rambled on about skin changing and Warging, things she had heard about but never paid any mind too. He had tried avoiding her and her touch, thinking that she was scared of what he could do or of what was in his blood. It took her sometime to convince him that she was not disgusted or afraid of him the slightest. She knew that his fear had come from being in a place that, while very accepting of many things, wasn't accepting of everything. Torran didn't know how anyone in Dorne would react until it had to be explained to him that many things, including the dark arts -Which her father sometimes used in his poisons- and the like were practiced.

They just weren't done in public.

Someone with gift of changing their skin was probably the least extreme thing the Dornish ever experienced. Both Torran and Jon, and any of the Stark family would be welcomed with or without their gifts. The family already knew about what he and Jon could do but it was hardly ever spoken about.

"Am I doing it again love?" Torran's words reached her ears and she blinked before responding.

"Yes," They both jumped into a cart that was right behind Trant and drew their hoods further over their heads. No one took notice of them, not even the knights at the gate. "But it will prove useful if you let it."

"I don't want to kill him yet," He growled softly. "and I won't torture him despite the temptation. I may have been born a bastard but I am not a Lannister bastard. I have a bit more class than that."

Nymeria gripped his hand in a show of support but otherwise said nothing. They waited until they had traveled a great distance out of the city before jumping off of the cart. The sun was setting on the horizon and soon they would have no light so they needed to strike fast. Torran followed Trant as quietly and as quickly as he could.

Nymeria picked up a stone and placed it in a sling before spinning it over her head. When Torran was close enough, she loosed the stone. Her aim was true and the stone struck Trant's horse in the rear. The horse let out a startled neigh, rearing back on its hind legs, causing Trant to fall.

"Get back here!" Trant yelled when his horse ran away. Torran decided to speak, this time in his natural accent.

"Are you having trouble good Ser?"

Trant only had time to look up before Torran's boot planted itself in Trant's face. Her husband went to the ground and placed one knee on Trant's chest. Nymeria walked casually towards them as Torran placed the other knee on Meryn Trant's throat. He swatted at Trant's hands when the knight tried to push him off. By the time she reached them, Trant's eyes had rolled into the back of his head. After a few moments, and after stripping the man of his helmet and weapons, Torran stood up.

"How far do we have to travel to meet the spiders friends?" He asked her, giving her Trant's sword and dagger.

"Just down that path and down the shore line." She jerked her chin in the general direction of their destination. Torran nodded once before growling and reaching for Trant. Torran picked the man up, armor and all before throwing him over his shoulder.

"Lead the way my love," He murmured to her with no visible strain from the weight he carried. It was impressive, she thought to herself as she lead him down the path that her father had mentioned to her. Not too many people could carry fully armored people without difficulty and without complaint.

The path they walked down wasn't treacherous but it was steep. It took them some time to get to anything resembling a straight path. Nymeria could see a boat down the shore line. It was big enough for the three of them and the two fishermen that would take them out to sea.

"Have you any rope?" She asked the men when they reached them. Only one nodded to the agreed call and moved his hands in a specific pattern. In the fading light Nymeria could see that the man was old and had his eyes sewn shut. She glanced at the other man, who couldn't have been much older than her as he watched the hands of the first man intently. His eyes were fine but his mouth was sewn shut. What an interesting turn of events, she thought as she realized who their companions were.

She looked over at Torran and she could see that he realized the same thing. Varys had hired a blind man and a deaf mute to accompany them. Unless it was an act, this was probably done to protect them and the location of where they were taking Trant. But knowing Varys, something else was afoot.

After retrieving the rope, the second man jumped out of the boat and gestured for Torran to drop Trant. After Torran did, the man made quick work of tying Trant's hands and feet behind his back. He used knots that even escape artists would have difficulty getting out of. He looked up into Torran's amber eyes with a bit of trepidation but gestured for him to pick up Trant which he did.

"So how do you two know Varys?" Torran asked with his mangled accent. Trant started to groan but he was ignored and the blind man began to speak.

"Lord Varys protects those that go unnoticed by the nobles like we smallfolk. He shares wealth with us, be it coin, food or knowledge. Like the knowledge of who you are, Prince Torran." The man beamed a smile as Torran growled. "Don't worry good prince, I won't tell a soul. Truthfully, who would believe a blind fisherman?"

A bald and fat eunuch, She thought sarcastically. These men would only answer to Varys and Varys alone, so the spider would know what transpired after they were finished.

"Indeed," Torran dropped all pretense and his words were cold. "We should get a move on."

He dropped Trant into the boat and they all pushed it except for the blind man as he went in first. They followed after they got far enough. After they climbed into the boat, more pleasantries, if one could call them that, were exchanged.

"My name is Maekar Waters," The blind man said softly as the deaf mute began to row the boat. "I was named after the great grandfather of the Mad King. My companion is called Duncan Waters."

Crownland bastards named after two Targaryen royals, it is a wonder that they were still living, Nymeria thought with a bit of surprise. Robert Baratheon's hatred for anything Targaryen was well known and he wouldn't have taken kindly to hearing that there were bastards with dragon names near the capitol. It was almost a funny thing, given that his ancestor Orys was a bastard Targaryen and his grandmother was a true born one. Nymeria wondered if the man hated himself before he died.

"How far out are we going?" She asked Maekar.

"Far enough to do your business with Ser Meryn," Maekar murmured. "and then we will travel under Kings Landing through the caves. Lord Varys will be waiting there to take you topside."

And I will have to stop my husband from strangling him, She thought as Trant awoke with a groan.

"What the - what in the seven hells- oomph-" Torran stuffed a rag into Trant's mouth.

"You'll have enough time to speak before your sentence is carried out." Trant made a noise of protest. "Be quiet Trant, no one in this boat is your friend and you will face Northern justice. Your gods will not help you escape - no gods will help you this day. Not the new, not the old, not even the drowned god." Her husband leaned in and snarled. "If you hadn't tried to kill my sister Arya, and if you hadn't touched my sister Sansa, I would have let you live. But you not only did both of those things, you did them to two Northern Princesses.

"Even if the North was not independent, they are still two high borne ladies from an old family. You are not fit to even utter their names let alone be a knight you Southron filth."

Unlike their dealings with Ser Simon, Nymeria chose to remain quiet for this. Simon Swygert had attempted to do great harm to their lover, but Meryn Trant did do great harm to her husbands blood family. Torran would allow Trant to make his peace with the Seven, but judging from the rigidness in the knights body, he clearly thought he did nothing wrong.

Torran remained quiet for the rest of their journey until Duncan had taken them out far enough. The moon shone brightly in the night sky as Torran stood and tossed Trant's helmet into the water, then pulled the man to his feet. Trant struggled as Nymeria tossed his sword into the water as well but kept his dagger for later. Torran smacked Trant upside the head and told him to keep still.

Nymeria grabbed a metal hook that was attached to a rope. The rope was tied around a rock that would be used to weigh Trant's body down when he was dead. As she attached the hook to Meryn Trant's knots, Torran began the sentencing.

"I, Torran Martell, born Torran Sand and raised as Torran Snow, do find Ser Meryn of house Trant, guilty of his transgressions against house Stark. In sight of the gods, both old and new, and in the name of King Robb of house Stark, I sentence you to death. Have you any last words?" He pulled out the gag. Nymeria finished her task and listened to what was about to be said.

"I will be avenged for I only did as my king commanded," Trant's voice never wavered and he spoke with absolute conviction. "and that Northern bitch deserved everything that I did to her. Such a shame that her cunt is now wasted on a -"

Torran wrapped his hand around Trant's neck dug his fingers into Trant's throat. Nymeria couldn't see his nails that well but it looked like they had turned into claws. Torran growled low in his chest and pulled while Trant struggled violently. With a roar, Torran ripped out a large piece of Meryn Trant's neck. Nymeria could only see the outline of the piece and and blood shot out of the wound like a fountain. Torran watched Trant for a moment and when he stopped struggling, Torran threw him out of the boat with the piece in his hands.

Torran picked up the rock and dropped it into the water. They both watched Trant's body sink below the surface of the water and Nymeria tossed the dagger in her hand into the sea.

"Maekar, tell Duncan to get us out of here," Nymeria told the old man. Duncan complied after seeing the order but his hands were shaking. It was obvious that he was scared by the brutality that just happened. Nymeria had seen enough death to not be affected by it. What Torran did was frightening, but she knew that he would never touch her in such a manner so she wasn't afraid of him. Torran sat down and dipped his hand into the water to wash off the blood.

"How quickly do the sharks go for bloodied food?" Torran asked Maekar as he shook his hands, flinging water back into the sea. She sat next to her husband and put a hand on his arm. He patted her hand in thanks of her support as the old man spoke.

"They'll make quick work of him as best they can, good prince." The old man murmured softly, his tone also betraying his fear of her husband. "They won't be able to eat everything but it is safe to say that Meryn Trant will not be found whole."

"Good," Her husband rumbled and they all settled into a strained silence.

* * *

 

Tywin was mentally going over his decision to send Gregor Clegane a head of him to Kings Landing. If what his son said was true, and Brightroar had been returned to the family, they had gained what was lost so long ago. If it wasn't, then they had a new Valyrian steel sword, courtesy of Prince Oberyn Martell. The price for such a courtesy? The right to challenge his sworn Bannermen in a trial by seven, for what happened to his precious sister.

Tywin had no reason to think that anything bad should happen. The only people that could duel Ser Gregor to a stand still and maybe beat him were his brother, Sandor, and Jaime. Oberyn Martell was a brilliant fighter, but he loved to run his mouth and became angered easily enough. Fighting Gregor Clegane would be his undoing.

No, Tywin wasn't worried about the Mountain losing to a viper. Even if such a thing transpired, his bastard grandson and daughter would see that the good Prince met an unfortunate accident. That would potentially put his granddaughter in danger but as much as Prince Doran hated Tywin's family, he would treat Myrcella well enough. Of course she would probably be held captive in Dorne unless she could be retrieved.

Tywin had no problem with that.

If Myrcella was to remain in Dorne, then that's one less problem for Robert's true heir, Tommen, when he ascended the throne. Joffrey wouldn't last much longer, and Tommen was young enough to be molded, especially by someone who had been hand to the mad king and was to be hand once more to another mad king. If Myrcella were to die in anyway then the rest of the seven kingdoms could be rallied to attack Dorne and win. It would take some time to do so but Tywin was confident that it could be done.

If he still believed in the gods then he would pray for either to happen. But as someone who didn't believe in them anymore, and as someone who knew that harsh tasks must be done to ensure victory, he would just continue as he had always done.

* * *

 

Barristan Selmy crept up behind a sellsword with blue hair that held Prince Quentyn at sword point in an alleyway. Two others lay dead on the ground beside them.

"You're quick boy, I'll give you that," The sellsword sneered and Barristan raised his sword. "but you're not quick enough." Barristan swung his sword but it was blocked by a stiletto. "And neither are you old man," The sellsword turned to him and Quentyn struck, knocking away the sword near his throat and lunging. Barristan swung again and all three fought hard.

The sellsword was talented enough, Barristan thought since he was able to defend against two opponents with something resembling ease. The sellsword managed to cut both he and Quentyn a few times and they returned the favor.

"Who sent you two?" The sellsword snarled at them as Barristan and Quentyn circled him. "Was it the sons? The blasted Windblown? Tell me damn you!" Quentyn charged at the sellsword, distracting long enough for Barristan to gut him. It was luck really, the other man could have easily turned around if Barristan wasn't fast enough.

The sellsword screamed when Barristan pushed his blade forward even more. Blood poured from his mouth and onto his blue beard. He raised his stiletto to stab Barristan. Barristan caught the hand with the weapon and Quentyn removed the other arm, causing the dying man to scream again. Barristan removed his sword when his opponents breath became shallow and let the man drop. Only when the sellsword stopped breathing did either of them speak.

"What happened Prince Quentyn?" Ser Barristan demanded sharply and the younger huffed a breath.

"I overheard these three talking about a new deal they just made. One being payed for by someone in Westeros. Their target was Queen Daenerys and her son who they said was called Rhaego but I'm not sure how true that is." Quentyn said with a bit of a grimace. Barristan didn't bother to chastise him for it but did chastise him for something else.

"Why did you engage them alone? Did you not realize how foolish that was?"

"That wasn't my intent," Quentyn protested. "I was trying to find you when they cornered me. I hadn't realized that I was spotted. I managed to deal with those two," He pointed to the two dead bodies. "And you know the rest."

Ser Barristan considered Quentyn's words. He knew Robert had ordered Daenerys to be executed but Robert was dead now, who could have done this? It may have been Joffrey, he was foolish enough for it but there was no conceivable for the Iron Throne to have enough money to pay for any bounty. Lord Tywin came to his mind next as being the most logical choice, but he shook his head. That didn't matter so much as he and Quentyn needing to move on and get to Daenerys.

"We need to go, gather the men and tell them to move out." Barristan said authoritatively.

"We will go to my mother first, she will give us more men. Men we need to deal with the Dothraki that surround Queen Daenerys should it be necessary." Quentyn argued and Barristan sighed irritably.

"Very well Prince Quentyn, we will do so. I just hope that her grace does not travel to the Red Wastes in the time it takes us to complete that objective."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I killed Darrio. Not because I hate him, but because Barristan Selmy would have killed him anyway if he ever had the chance. All I did was give him that chance. Both he and Quentyn are in Norvos and will meet with his mother then head out to the Dothraki Sea. They won't meet Daenerys until after the new year (299 AL). And yes, Rhaego is alive and well and is considered the brother of Dragons.
> 
> Now you know the deal that was made by Tyrion and Oberyn and instead of a trial by combat, there will be a trial of seven (which is basically the same thing but with two teams of seven).
> 
> And Meryn Trant is dead, hopefully you all found that satisfying.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of violence towards the end but hopefully it doesn't come across as too graphic.

Sansa shared a kiss with her husband as they neared the ship, Dragonsbane, that would take her to Dorne. There had been a bit of a delay in getting the ship ready but Sansa was glad to have spent a few extra days with part of her good family.

"Remember your promise to me," She whispered looking directly into his eyes.

"I will," Oberyn murmured to her but she grasped his chin an narrowed her eyes at him. "I will remember, my love."

She gave him another kiss, "Thank you."

She had not yet said the word love in regards to Oberyn, but she knew that one day she could and she had freely given him her affection. There was enough to love about him but Sansa was not yet ready for more since there was enough conspiring against them. Namely, the Lannister's and the continuation of the new war. Others may have called it the young wolf's rebellion but Sansa knew, that when her father was killed, war had come to the realms. This would be the second war that her family had to suffer through and Sansa was just too afraid of getting close to Oberyn.

Sansa glanced to her brother and he looked her way. They had already shared their farewell but she could tell that he wanted to join her and just leave already. He had hated it here, and hated that she had been trapped for nearly eight months before she could leave. Neither he nor Oberyn would tell her what they would be doing, but they had told Ellaria and she had not been happy with them. She barely accepted the farewell kisses from Oberyn, Torran, and Nymeria and did not return any. She instead pursed her lips and her eyes burned with a promise that only the three seemed to understand.

She then glanced to Rebekah who had been trying to keep herself from crying and mostly succeeded. Her eyes shined with tears but they never fell, and she kept her face from crumbling. She knew that Rebekah didn't know what Ellaria did but she was worried all the same.

Sansa gave Oberyn one more kiss before walking to Rebekah and grasping her hand. Rebekah gave her a watery smile but said nothing. One of the Baratheon Bannermen walked over to them.

"Princess Sansa, it is time to leave." He said, barely hiding his contempt of her. She did not have any fans among the Dragonstone Bannermen, her companions less so. Sansa knew that the contempt for her came from the fact that her father was treated better by King Robert and Lord Stannis was not. It probably had something to do with what her father did in regards to Tommen as well but she couldn't be sure. If her lord father was still alive, this wouldn't be happening or at least not to her face.

"Is there a problem?" Rebekah said sharply with a scowl. The man in front of her sneered at Rebekah but dropped it when he glanced over her shoulder.

"Princess, is this one bothering you?" Torran rumbled from behind her.

"No Alystar, this one was just being rude, you need not bother yourself with him." Sansa informed her brother as the man in front of her flushed. Sansa continued, not caring about his reaction, "Please tell Lady Ashara that we will board soon enough, and that I would like to speak with her as soon as possible."

He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and stomped away. He muttered to himself about bastards and bitches not knowing their places.

"I know my place well enough but at least I have manners you prick," Rebekah snapped at his retreating figure. The Bannermen moved at a quicker pace with his hands clenched at his side. "We'll have to watch out for that one." She added after a moment.

"No you won't," Her husband murmured from behind her and she turned in surprise to see him, Ellaria and Nymeria. She thought that only Torran had come up behind her but apparently so did the others in her family. Oberyn winked at her and Rebekah but scowled at the ship. "I will be right back. Alystar, watch them." He walked towards Dragonsbane.

"He's not going to kill him is he?" Sansa frowned. She wasn't afraid of anything happening to Oberyn, but this would put a damper on the relationship between he and Ashara Baratheon.

"He will not my love," Ellaria murmured from her side, linking her arm with hers and kissing her cheek. She, like Oberyn, had no problem with calling her love. And like Oberyn, she never over stepped her boundaries though Sansa knew that both wished for her to join their bed. The closest Sansa had come to that was cuddling with them in her sleep. "He and Ashara have always been friends and he would not embarrass her like that. He may not have the best relationship with anyone else in her family, except for her son Edric, but he will not do her wrong. He will, however, remind her that her men were supposed to be kind to us or at least keep their hostilities to themselves."

Sansa said nothing, mostly because she expected that conversation to not go as well as it should. No one in power liked to feel small or be embarrassed but it could happen. And the ones that suffered from the anger that followed for such a feeling were those of lesser status. Sansa was protected enough, being Oberyn's wife but Ellaria and Rebekah, and if she got what she wanted, Rebekah's unborn child would be placed in trouble. Sansa would fight for them, but she knew that not everyone could be saved.

Oberyn returned later with the Bannermen and Lady Ashara in tow. The Bannermen, Ser Derrick of house Rambton, apologized to Sansa for his behavior. Sansa didn't believe a word of it, but she let the matter drop with as much grace as she would allow him, which wasn't a lot. Lady Ashara then offered her apologies, which were genuine, and she explained that Ser Derrick would stay in Kings Landing in the service of her husband. He would be released from that service when her husband left the Capitol or if something happened.

Sansa nodded politely and then started to leave with her party. She glanced back every so often at those remaining behind. Oberyn and Nymeria would wave at her, Torran had to stay in character and nod. When she was on the ship, she blew them all a kiss as tears filled her eyes, silently praying that she would see them again.

"They'll be alright," Rebekah murmured half-heartedly as the crew of Dragonsbane weighed anchor.

"They better be," Ellaria almost snarled at her side but Sansa could detect a hint of worry. Ellaria relented a little and blew them all a kiss as well. "They better be alright, or the rest of Westeros will succumb to something greater than dragon fire."

"And what is that?" Rebekah asked with a frown. With a cold smile, Ellaria answered.

"Why, the Dornish sun of course."

* * *

 

"Your hand, Prince Theon, reports that Winterfell is holding strong and he awaits your return." Brynden Tully paused and looked to his King. "If I may pose a question to you, your grace."

"You may Ser Brynden," Robb murmured to the Lord Commander of his Winterguard. His Northern honor guard would be like the Kingsguard but his sworn Knights could hold lands or leave at anytime they wished. His uncle had joined stating that his nephew Edmure would inherit Riverrun and he wasn't needed to stay in the Riverlands.

"Why did you name Prince Theon as such? He is not a Stark by blood or marriage."

"Theon has lived with my family since he was ten. He is now twenty, the same age as my brother Torran, and in the ten years that he has spent with us, not once has his loyalty wavered. He could have easily withheld the letter that was sent to him from his family and even burned Winterfell to the ground. He didn't, instead he informed me of the letters contents and gave me strategic advice that proved to be brilliant."

Robb paused to consider his words.

"Theon is my brother in all but blood and name. Thus, I named him a prince, just like I did with Torran and Jon - Do not tell my mother that last part," Robb warned the old knight. "She'll consider becoming a kinslayer if she heard about that tidbit."

"Surely not your grace." Ser Brynden protested. He knew that Cat did not like the two bastards that grew up in her house, but neither were in a position to hurt her true born family. Robb's proclamation seemed a bit unfair.

"Neither my grandfather or mother is pleased with me right now," Robb said firmly. "They don't like that I have taken them to task for what they have done or what they haven't done. They also don't like that I refused to marry off Arya to one of Walder Frey's sons. In that regard, they do not understand that despite her Tully blue eyes, my sister is a wolf in every way. I will allow her to marry whomever she wishes if she wants to even get married. I will not be cruel to my family if I can help it."

Arya was always compared, perhaps unfairly, to their aunt Lyanna. Her wild behavior and wild spirit, often brought smiles or grimaces when people saw her. If the information given to him was true - and given the source, he had no reason to think that it wasn't - then his aunt had rebelled against her chosen match of Robert Baratheon and the realms bled because of it. And despite him feeling shame for thinking it, Robb knows that his sister would do the same, consequences be damned, and no one would survive the fall out. Robb didn't want to consider any other options that may be worse.

Robb had been told that she had already cast her eye on Robert Baratheon's bastard son Gendry, but denied it whenever it was brought up. Despite his opinion of the dead king, he would welcome Gendry as his goodbrother if his sister took him as her husband. Of course there was the matter of what name he would take but that would be worked out if it was necessary.

"I want your word Ser Brynden, that you will not tell my mother of what we discussed now or what we will discuss."

"I will not breath a word of this to anyone your grace."

"Good," Robb nodded. "Now tell me true, would I be a fool to take the Dreadfort and give it to my brother Theon? Obviously the name would be changed and Roose Bolton's punishment has yet to be carried out, but am I wrong in thinking that my brother should have a fort of his own?"

"No your grace, Winterfell is large but it will eventually get cramped if you and your brother start having children and they start having children," Brynden said honestly. "Based on what you've told me about it, the Dreadfort should suffice for your brother."

Robb nodded thoughtfully. In truth it made sense to give his brother something but he would wait and see how Theon felt first. After all, he may not want it to begin with.

"What of the Night's Watch your grace? They have asked for more men."

"I will send them some of my Bannermen for support but not to join. And maybe some food for good measure."

"Why not to join your grace?"

"The Night's Watch used to be noble order. Now it is used as a punishment or used to get out of punishments. It is filled with cravens and beast. What little noble men left in its service will be the last of them. I will see the Night's watch dissolved and reclaimed by my house but not now. No it must be done slowly."

Jeor Mormont was in reluctant agreement with Robb's plan. His duty to the Night's Watch was outweighed by his sense of duty to his liege lord but only just. Yes, when he took the Black he answered to no lords or kings, but Jeor could not forget centuries of dedication to house Stark no matter how much he tried. Robb knew that the old man took comfort in the fact that Robb didn't dissolve it immediately as was his right.

"You will wait to the current crop dies out and replace them with your Bannermen."

Robb nodded swiftly, "And I may release a few like Lord Mormont and Samwell Tarly if they wish it." Robb probably would release Samwell Tarly anyway. His vows had been made under duress and Lord Eddard always told his children that no such vow could be kept or be expected to. If your heart was not true in your vows then they simply did not count in the eyes of the gods. The question then would be, where would Samwell go? He couldn't really stay in the North for too long but he couldn't go home to the Reach. Maybe Dorne? Yes that might work, Robb had presents to send to his sisters and Samwell would deliver them.

"Is that all, Ser Brynden?"

"Yes your grace."

"Good, let us continue with preparations for the march North."

* * *

 

"Are you sure that the sword you gave them was Brightroar?" Torran asked his good father after he explained just how this event was allowed to take place. They were waiting in their tent for word about the up coming bout. Nymeria was going over some last minute details with those that volunteered to fight with them outside. The only one who didn't volunteer was Ser Derrick but Oberyn made him join anyway. The rest had come from various houses in Dorne, all eager to bring Gregor Clegane to justice.

"It is a Valyrian steel sword with a golden handle and cross guard, a lion's head pommel and is encrusted with Rubies. What else could it have been?" Oberyn asked him rhetorically and Torran shrugged, it was a fair point. "Speaking of Valyrian steel," Oberyn walked across the tent and retrieved a sword. This one had the heads of mockingbirds carved at each end of the silver cross guard. The handle was grey and there was what looked like the Titans head for the pommel.

Oberyn tossed it to him and he caught it.

"That is the Mockingtitan, former blade of House Baelish." Oberyn said with a bit of theatrics. What a name, Torran thought before he registered what Oberyn said.

"What do you mean former blade?"

"It seems that Lord Baelish has disappeared and left that behind," Oberyn replied in manner that suggested that he knew more than he let on. Torran knew from the tone that he wouldn't tell him so he moved on.

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"As good as you are with your mace, you are much better with a sword. I'd rather you be comfortable in this battle than not. And since you left Moonscar in your brothers possession, that should suffice."

Torran drew the blade and swung it a few times to get an handle for it. It was a double sided blade like most swords in Westeros and just as light as Moonscar was.

"I do hope you removed any slime this may have had before giving it to me." Torran drawled earning a dry look from Oberyn.

"As if I would let you get infected by Littlefinger's bodily fluids," Oberyn drawled back. "What do you plan to do with it afterwards?"

"Maybe I'll give it to Podrick as a gift when he's done being my squire. I'll change the design of it should he ask me too."

Some would say that Podrick Payne was neither a remarkable person or a skilled one. But he had a good heart and had treated his sister kindly when hardly anyone else did. He even dressed her wounds from time to time before Shae had taken over. No one would squire him and the one who was supposed to do it didn't have enough time to do so. So Torran asked his goodfather to see it done.

Oberyn had teased him about wanting another stray but Torran saw a young man filled with promise in a place where promise did not thrive. Besides, what was the boy going to learn from the imp besides sarcasm and whoring? Two things, that while great in the short term, didn't actually help Podrick. He had learned more from Torran in the past month than he ever would from Tyrion.

"I think he will like that," Oberyn murmured before eyeing Torran somewhat seriously. " I understand that you, Nymeria, and Rebekah have seen fit make me a young grandfather?" Torran knew that even if they were no longer together, Oberyn and Ellaria would still care for Rebekah. Both treated her like a daughter and of course he would be worried about their decision.

"Young?" Torran snorted and said teasingly. "Please, to say that you're older than dirt would be an insult to dirt. But to answer your question, Rebekah may be with child but we're not sure. She's determined to have my child just as Ellaria will keep giving you children should you ask. She's already picked out names and all three of us will raise the child together."

"And pray tell, what names has she chosen?"

"Mostly Dornish first names like Morgan and such, to honor Nym. The surname she wants to be different though."

"Storm then?"

"No, Wolfstorm to be exact, to honor her homeland and my family. She thinks that all three of us should be honored in some way."

"And what do you think Torran?"

Torran shrugged, "As long as my Princess and my Lady Storm are happy, then I am happy."

Nymeria poked her head into the tent, interrupting them.

"It is time," She said before leaving.

"We will discuss this later," Oberyn told him.

"Of course, my prince." Torran replied in his mangled accent, standing to leave. He would have Nymeria with him to help deal with whatever Oberyn was going to say. Be it judgement or otherwise. He adjusted his Dragonbone bracers and light armor before following Oberyn out.

The walk to the fighting pits in Kings Landing was tedious. Along the way some of the smallfolk followed their group of seven and their various squires. Torran had handed Podrick Sunfyre and told him to use it if something bad should happen. Normally Kings Landing, despite its clean appearance, often smelled like shit yet now it seemed worse for some reason.

Torran got his answer when the entered near the fighting pits. Men in black robes and black hoods were carrying bodies out of them. From the smell and look of them, they were at least a day old.

"Podrick, do you know where are all these bodies coming from?" He whispered to his squire.

"Lord Tyrion said that the Queen Regent gave the prisoners in the cells to Ser Gregor and his team for practice. They've nearly emptied all the cells and wanted to leave the bodies here as a message. At least that's what Lord Tyrion told me, mentor." Podrick didn't know about Torran's true identity but he would when they reached Dorne or at least when they left King's Landing.

"Gregor Clegane means to intimidate us," Oberyn hissed with a laugh, having heard the conversation. "I have been in war, as has he, and he should know that such tactics work only on the faint of heart."

Indeed, Torran looked around and noticed that only the squires, save for Podrick, looked upset at the sight of so many dead bodies. The rest barely batted an eye. The pits were stained with the blood of those who died and across the way stood a rather large man with six knights in front of him.

I wonder if he has giant's blood, Torran thought to himself as he looked upon the Mountain before dismissing it. He was definitely bigger than Hodor -or Walder if old Nan was to be believed - but unlike Hodor he wasn't slow of wits nor was he gentle. However, his goodfather was neither of those things in combat and Torran almost felt sorry for the Mountain. Well, not really.

"Hear me, good people," Joffrey crowed from a raised platform where his family sat. "On this day, in the eleventh month of 298 AL, Prince Oberyn has seen fit to challenge Ser Gregor of house Clegane, to a trial by Seven for the...murders of his sister and her children. High Septon, commence with the Trial."

"In the sight of gods and men, I do hereby bless this meeting of champions and may the gods favor the righteous." The Septon motioned for one of the horn players to play. When the horn player gave the signal, Torran started to charge, with one thought in his mind: Get rid of the others.

"Make a path for Prince Oberyn." He snarled at the others who followed his lead. He raised his sword and brought it down on the Knight in front of him who barely held his position. Torran had to parry a strike before he slashed at the Knights arm. The Valyrian steel sword cut through the mail and straight through to the bone.

Torran grabbed the screaming knight and shoved him aside.

"Go my prince!" Torran roared before Oberyn ran through the opening that Torran made. The cheers from the smallfolk were ignored and Torran drove his sword into the Knights head, ending his scream. Torran ducked under a swing and engaged another knight in combat.

* * *

 

"Have they told you who I am, Gregor Clegane?" Oberyn asked the man before him who grunted his reply.

"Some dead man." The Mountain's words were delivered with a deep tenor and with very little care as he lifted his great sword and swung. Oberyn dodged out of the way then plunged his spear tip towards an opening in the Mountain's helmet. When the mountain batted it away, his helmet came off. Oberyn used his speed to send attacks towards Clegane who was forced to dodge.

That was nothing more than a test for Oberyn. He wanted to see how well Gregor Clegane could move and if there were any gaps in his armor. He only spotted a few. Mainly at the back of his legs and and where his shoulders met. He could get through the mail if he tried hard enough.

"You are wrong in that regard," Oberyn jumped over Clegane's sword when the larger man made to sweep at his legs. Oberyn twirled his spear then struck Clegane in the face with the butt of it when the Mountain turned to him. As the giant man spat out a few teeth, Oberyn continued, "I am not a dead man, I am your undoing. For my sister Elia." He dodged another blow. "For her daughter Rhaenys." He dodged once more before he thrust his spear tip forward and through the mail that protected his opponent. "And for her son Aegon."

The Mountain barely grunted as he gripped the spear shaft and cut it with his sword. He then yanked it out and charged at Oberyn.

Oberyn cared not for the spear as he evaded the lunging giant. A squire tossed him another spear but Oberyn's work was done. The poison that he mixed earlier and bathe his spear in was already taking effect for the Mountain was heaving and slowing down. This particular poison had been his own creation, one that acted faster than most. The Mountain started to turn an ugly shade of green and he struggled for breath.

"I would have loved a confession from you," Oberyn murmured, staying out of the dying man's reach. "but your master is not here to answer for what he has done. So I will content myself with your head for now." Oberyn glanced towards his group of seven. His daughter, her husband, and the two of the four knights that joined them were standing victorious though the last two had more injuries than his family. Ser Derrick had fallen, an axe lay buried in his head. Oberyn wouldn't miss him but he expected problems to arise because of his death.

He turned back to the Mountain who was now on his knees, one hand supporting his weight. Oberyn walked over and removed Clegane's sword from his weak fingers. He tossed his spear back to a squire then raised the sword in his hand. Oberyn was sure that he disappointed those that expected him to die or those that expected him to drag this out. But he made a promise, one of many that he intended to keep.

He brought the sword down and took satisfaction in the fact that the sword went straight through in one stroke. It wouldn't do to keep hacking away, and he was afraid that he would have to because of how thick Clegane's neck was. Before he could pick up the head, he heard the king shout.

"Guards, arrest this Dornish trash!" Oberyn looked up with a glare. Joffrey's face was red and his mother was trying to calm him down but he screamed at her. "No! He was supposed to die! How could the gods favor this..."

The smallfolk had been rumbling since the kings outburst but it was a deeper rumble that caught Oberyn's attention. The raised platform seemed to buckle under an unseen weight and it collapsed, sending its occupants spilling out and to the ground. Then all Seven Hells broke loose as the smallfolk swarmed them along with the black robed figures. Some of them had removed their hoods and Oberyn could see a seven pointed star that was carved into their foreheads. 

"Help the Royal family!" Oberyn shouted at his companions running forward to offer aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for cutting it there but *shrugs* I got to give all of you some suspense right?
> 
> And sorry if people were expecting some grand death for the Mountain but better writers than me have done it better and while I love action I am absolute shit at writing it. Hopefully all of you enjoyed it none the less.


	10. Chapter 10

Torran panted as he carried Lady Margaery in his arms. They barely managed to escape and he could feel blood trickling down his face from when someone struck him with a rock. Nymeria was on his left, helping Ser Loras walk. Oberyn was to the right of him, carrying a whimpering Tommen Baratheon. The lads injuries had mainly come from falling out of the platform but he was nearly trampled to death by the crowd. Podrick carried Renly Baratheon on his back, and Bronn was guarding Tyrion Lannister at the rear. Had it not been for the various Bannermen from the different houses in the area, they may have not been able to escape at all.

They had managed to save nearly everyone in the royal box except a few. The Queen Regent was one, having been dragged away by those in black robes and into parts unknown. The high Septon was gone as well. And Joffrey...had died squealing like a pig. Torran didn't see it all, for he only saw bits and pieces as Joffrey himself was torn to bits and pieces. He did remember how unnaturally quiet it had gotten when he stopped screaming, before the smallfolk roared their approval and held his limbs aloft. Joffrey's dying words were what he had been screaming throughout the entire ordeal.

"I am the King!"

Torran knew that anyone that had to assert themselves as such was no true lord or king. But then again, Joffrey was never meant to be king, it was always meant to be his half brother, and if they were Dornish, then his half sister would have the right to rule.

Torran idly wondered what the response from the old Lion and his precious Kingslayer would be? Would they seek vengeance upon the smallfolk? After all, Lord Tywin drove two noble Westerland houses to extinction simply because they disrespected his family, what would he do to the commoners? Torran couldn't really speak ill for something like that since he started a brawl because someone insulted his family but still, he wouldn't go to that extreme.

And even if Lord Tywin and his son didn't do something like that, they would still probably raise whatever hell they believed in. One lost his bastard son, the other found his true born daughter missing and presumably dead, there was no way that they would not respond.

Would they try to punish Oberyn and the Dornish conglomerate for this? It was doubtful really since they were not at fault, but neither were the three innocent souls that died in the capitol all those years ago and look what happened to them. Or perhaps they would owe them a favor. Torran almost laughed at the thought, knowing that Tywin Lannister did not like anyone from Dorne nor would he like owing them anything, but he refrained from doing so.

"My lady, am I hurting you?" Torran whispered to Margaery.

"No, Prince Torran, you are not." She replied quietly, looking up at him. Something in his expression must have gave way to his surprise because she said soothingly, "I will not tell a soul, not even my brother, for Sansa's sake. You have my word." If anyone doubted that she cared for his sister then he would have labeled them a fool. Still, Torran was worried.

"How did you know?" He asked her softly, still using his fake accent and she sighed before leaning into him more.

"My grandmother, she's known this whole time and told me," Margaery murmured. "And she hasn't told anyone else. She's actually quite amused that no one else besides Lord Varys has figured it out."

"Well I did go through a lot of trouble to make sure that no one would," Torran grumbled, a little irritated that more than one person knew who he was. Margaery chuckled and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "What was that for my lady?"

"Is it not customary to give a prince a kiss when he helps a fair maiden?" She asked sweetly and he almost snorted. Margaery was a shrewd woman who liked to pretend that she was this sweet, innocent girl but there was a fire in her soul that only few could match and burned those who couldn't. It was something that she no doubt learned from her grandmother. Oberyn told him that the Tyrell's should have taken a snake as their sigil and not a rose, since it was more fitting. Torran didn't know how true that was until he actually met Lady Olenna who was a viper in all but appearance.

"I am only a legitimized bastard my lady, I was not born into royalty."

"Technically, neither was my intended," She returned with raised eyebrows, daring him to challenge her words.

"Yes, well, my apologies for your loss," Torran's words carried a slight mocking lilt to them. His wolf blood was sated and his Dornish blood was brought to a simmer with Joffrey's death. He wouldn't miss the little prick, no one outside of his family would, but still, customs had to be followed.

"Your words are appreciated," Margaery said dryly and he chuckled quietly as she ran her hand across his chest. And so is my body apparently, Torran thought with some amusement. If they could have gotten away with it, Torran and Nymeria would have taken Margaery to bed. But, they had already upset one Stormlander family with what they did to Ser Simon, they didn't need to add one from Highgarden to the mix for sleeping with Margaery. Not to mention that Torran would probably get death threats from Lord Buckler for getting Rebekah pregnant sooner or later when he found out.

"I believe that I see your carriages my lady," Torran said loudly and nodded ahead at the green carriages in front of them.

"Indeed," Margaery sighed and stopped her ministrations. Torran walked faster to her carriage but stopped when one of the Tyrell Bannermen raised his sword at him. "Put it down," Margaery almost snapped. "And stand aside, we need to ride to the castle. Now." She added when the Bannermen opened his mouth to speak but he stepped aside instead. Torran helped Margaery into her carriage then turned to leave.

"I do believe we are going the same way," Margaery said softly to him as Nymeria helped Ser Loras enter from the other side. "Please, join us."

Torran looked to Nymeria but it was Oberyn that spoke.

"We will help them to the castle," He said. "Then we will regroup."

Torran knew that he meant that they would be getting ready to leave as soon as possible. But Oberyn would probably want to know just who those black robed figures were first. Torran did as well though he had them pegged for some religious group given the seven pointed star on their brows. He hoped that they were not the Faith Militant reborn or Kings Landing might be even more difficult to deal with.

Torran climbed into the carriage and Nymeria followed suit.

* * *

 

Nymeria relaxed slightly when they entered the castle but not entirely given what happened in this place. She watched idly as Lady Olenna embraced her grandchildren, hugging them tightly. While many knew that she valued Margaery the most, she still loved all of her grandchildren, more so than her own son Mace. Lady Olenna then thanked them all profusely for helping her grandchildren. She, unlike her son, did not treat her father poorly for what happened to Willas Tyrell, her eldest grandchild. She knew that it was an honest accident and supported the correspondence that her father and lord Willas shared.

"Think nothing of it Lady Olenna," Her father murmured, sketching a bow. She and Torran followed suit. "What happened should not have happened at all and I will call upon the small council to find out why it did." Her father's eyes shifted to the younger of Tywin Lannister's offspring who nodded his agreement. Her father said that he liked this one well enough but still, he was a Lannister, and could not be trusted fully. Torran said that he would return the favor of him protecting his sister along with Renly Baratheon, but he would never break bread with the others.

"I would rather break their necks if I could get away with it," He told her and her father flatly the day discussed it. Neither doubted him but both knew that he would wait for her father's signal and approval.

"My lords, and ladies," The soft and almost tittering voice of Varys came from their side. They all turned to look at him. His voice was the same but his normally calm face was blank and almost...annoyed. It was a strange look for him. "I do believe I have someone who could shed light on what has happened."

He gestured for someone to step forward. It was Lancel Lannister, son of Ser Kevan Lannister. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess. He seemed to have been drinking judging by the smell of wine wafting off of him and his clothes were in disarray.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," He slurred then hiccuped. He didn't seem to know just who he was talking to but he talked none the less. "They only wanted Cersei. The others weren't supposed to be hurt. They promised that they wouldn't hurt them."

"Who promised such a thing to you?" Her father cut in before anyone else could speak.

"The Sparrows," Lancel hiccuped again, looking up at her father after he crashed to the floor. "The Sparrows and their leader, the high Sparrow. He's like a Septon but not as greedy and didn't make fun of me when I made my confession. A Septon might not have been as kind as he was." He stopped talking and stared at nothing in particular but my father regained his attention.

"And why did they promise you anything?"

"I confessed my sins," He said then started bawling his eyes out. "I told them that I had killed King Robert and slept with his wife, my cousin, as payment. The High Sparrow told me that we both needed to pay for what we had done but he would see us both go to trial first. This wasn't supposed to happen I swear."

He wailed on and on about their promise and Nymeria almost felt sorry for him. He seemed to be remorseful for what he did and he wanted to pay for what he had done. He just never expected things to get so out of hand. Her father gestured for her to hand him her drinking horn. She did and tried not to appear grim, knowing what was in the horn and what was about to happen. Her father made Lancel drink from the horn and he coughed when he drank too fast, probably thinking it was wine.

"That water is very sweet, my Lord." Lancel murmured before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed on to the stone floor. Her father checked for a pulse before shaking his head when Ser Loras asked him if he was still alive.

"What did you give him?" Tyrion Lannister demanded sharply. Torran looked down at the imp with narrowed eyes but made no move to correct him at the moment. She saw Bronn shift his stance in response to what Torran did.

"A painless death," Her father said as he brushed Lancel's hair out of his face and closed the mans eyes. "Something your father wouldn't have given him. Who knows what these Sparrows would have done to him and your sister. It is better this way."

"He may have known where they were!"

"The Sparrows are in the poorer parts of the city, my Lord Hand." Varys said, eyeing her father with respect. "That's where they have always been, tending to the sick and those who are refugees of the current Rebellion."

"And you didn't think to tell anyone one about this?!"

"Before today, all they had done was keep to themselves and practice their faith. What was I supposed to do, my lord?"

"This arguing is not going to get the queen regent back," Her husband rumbled when he saw that the imp was very close to throttling Varys. "Why not focus on that first, my lords?"

Tyrion seemed to calm down and muttered for Bronn to follow him. "I will visit my nephew later, and tell Pycelle that should something happen to Tommen, I will have him strangled with his own Maester's chain." He said to Varys.

"Of course my Lord Hand," Varys nodded once as the acting hand left. The spider then set his curious eyes on her. "Is there a particular reason that you have a horn filled with Sweetsleep water, Lady Nym?" He asked, using the state of address she had given when she first arrived.

"If I fell in battle, I was to drink it so my enemies couldn't take me alive."

Everyone knew that Sweetsleep was mostly harmless unless you took too much. One drop to calm the nerves, three for a dreamless sleep, and ten to sleep so deep that no one could wake you. Everyone in their group of Seven had a horn filled with an entire vial of Sweetsleep. All except her father and Ser Derrick who refused on the grounds of not needing it. Nymeria considered that on some level he was right.

Varys nodded at her then ordered a servant to take Lancel's body away. He turned to leave, but not before adding, "If any of you have need of me, just send a message." He disappeared the same way he came.

"At least he doesn't leave a trail of slime behind like Lord Baelish." Her fathers words caused her and Torran to snort before they could stop themselves.

"He is a bit more dignified than that, yes." Torran nodded his agreement with her words. "What shall we do now, father?"

"As I said, we will regroup, but I must write to my brother first. I want you two to scout for these Sparrows and see how many there are."

"And if they become hostile?" Torran asked him.

"Then you have my permission to respond appropriately."

Both nodded in understanding and Torran motioned for Podrick to follow them out.

* * *

 

"What have you found?" Oberyn asked the people in front of him. It had been sometime now and he had already prepared a fire for the night.

"There's at least seventy Sparrows scattered through out the city," His daughter spoke first. "They don't always stay together but they know how to use their numbers well enough when they get confronted by hostile forces."

"None of them use weapons so they follow the law," Torran went next, referencing Maegor's law. "But that doesn't stop them from basically acting like a militarized group. Their apparently big fans of yours despite your 'indiscretions' their word not mine. They consider you to be the Warrior made flesh, demanding justice for the Mother made flesh, your sister who they consider a martyr. Again their words, or rather the words of their leader."

"They have the queen regent in a cage in Flea Bottom my prince," Podrick said quietly. Oberyn knew that Podrick was slightly intimidated by him but he managed to hide it well enough at times. "They have offered her food and water but she refuses them. She probably thinks that they are poisoned and such. They don't let anyone get close to her but they allow them to shout at her, and sometimes they encourage it."

"What Joffrey did today was the last straw in what they consider a long list of transgressions. They would have kept their promise to Lancel if Cersei hadn't ordered the cells emptied for Gregor Clegane's amusement before Lord Tyrion found out and stopped it. All those people not getting a fair trial and being slaughtered did not sit well with them. At least that's what this High Sparrow said when one of the smallfolk asked him why they attacked the royal box." His daughter finished their report.

Oberyn sat quietly and absorbed all that they told him. He was not pleased about his sister being called a martyr and being used in their campaign. He supposed that it was just how some people saw his sister but just like those who called her the Dragon's whore, they were very, very wrong. If the chance to rectify such a thought came to pass then he would take it.

He considered the fact that did not use weapons to be a blessing but a small one. Even with the seemingly small number that they had, they still had the love of the smallfolk on their side. At least enough of it to manipulate the good people of the Capitol. It was smart really, the smallfolk were needed to keep the nobles in power, so they needed to have their respect. If they lost that respect then they lost that power. Especially from those who grew crops and the like. Oberyn had no doubt that these Sparrows would use that to their advantage while claiming that it was the will of the gods.

And of course holding the Queen Regent hostage would give them many opportunities. They could name any demands that they wanted within the confines of the law. If Oberyn had to guess, one would be for Cersei to stand trial for her crimes. Not even lord Tywin would be able to save his daughter without killing everyone involved and the people would riot even more.

All in all Oberyn knew that they had over stayed their welcome and needed to leave as soon as possible.

"I will give this information to the Lord Hand," He murmured before taking a sip from his cup. "I want all of you to start packing. We leave for Dorne tomorrow."


	11. Chapter 11

Doran read two missives in his solar, both from his brother. One explained that there had been a riot on the day of Gregor Clegane's trial. There had been some injuries gained for Torran and Nymeria but nothing life threatening. All four of the knights that joined them either died in the trial, or later from their injuries and Oberyn said that he would honor their families in some way.

Doran grimaced at the description of this new religious group, thinking back to his lessons with the old family Maester Roren, the Maester before Caleotte, who had long since passed. It would seem that the Faith Militant had returned and that was a worrying thought. Thankfully his brother had the sense to leave and would be out of Kings Landing by now if the second missive was any indication. They would be escorted by some Baratheon Bannermen courtesy of Lord Renly Baratheon to help them traverse through the Stormlands. Doran suspected this was done so no harm would come to them from House Swygert and as repayment for the aid they provided during the riot.

They would probably ride more often and rest less than the last time they traveled. They may even arrive ahead of his goodsister since the ship she was on would need to stop in Tarth before coming to Dorne. It was much easier to travel south by ship then north as the winds would tend to favor that direction. Which made it all the more surprising that his son had been able to get to Braavos in the time that he did.

His thoughts drifted to the information that his son sent him not that long ago. Apparently Daenerys Stormborn had indeed been with child and that child had turned out to be a son. She had named him Rhaego, after her brother Rhaegar. It was an innocent thing he supposed but names had power and they had consequences. He remembered when his sister wrote to him about one of the few arguments that she and Rhaegar ever had: the naming of their children. She had no idea why he had been adamant about naming their children after those that conquered six kingdoms so long ago. The only thing that Rhaegar had told her was a cryptic statement about the three heads of the dragon.

Elia took that to mean that he wanted three children but giving him two had nearly killed her. Which is where Lyanna Stark came in. Oberyn could never understand why Doran had acknowledged Rhaegar's second marriage but it was simple. One, Rhaegar was a Targaryen and could have more than one wife at the same time. Two, his sister had no problem with the match. Whether it was because it took off some of the burden for her or because she just wanted Rhaegar to be happy Doran did not know but he suspected the latter. And three, both Lyanna and Rhaegar were in love.

That last fact was only known when Doran met the two of them in secret when he could still walk unhindered. A fact that he had kept from his brother even now, despite how much he seemed to have tempered his anger over the years. The meeting had happened early on in the War of the Usurper and Doran needed to only look at them to see that they were absolutely enraptured with one another. How could he, the ruling Prince of Dorne, a place where love was expressed freely and without judgement, place judgment on those two after knowing the truth?

Lady Lyanna had said that she would stay in Dorne as a show of good faith and that she wasn't trying to take his sister's place. She was a wild but sweet woman, Doran thought and she needn't have died from something that was easily avoidable.

"Father," His daughters voice brought him back to the present. Arianne stood to the side, waiting patiently for him to let her in.

"Come in my dear," Doran murmured. His daughter did as such after Areo moved to the side. She kissed his cheek in greeting and he kissed hers in return.

"News from the Capitol?"

"Your uncle is on his way back," Doran handed her the missives he received. He continued as she read them, "He feels that he has spent enough time there and it is time for him to return home."

His daughter grimaced and put the missives on the table, "Indeed," She muttered and sat opposite him. "Has any news of Quentyn arrived?"

"Only what your mother sent and the missive your brother sent already."

"I wonder what could be happening to keep him Quentyn from being consistent in his letters," His daughter had purposely ignored the bit about her mother, he noticed. His estranged wife had always been a touchy subject in their family ever since he sent Quentyn to be fostered with the Yronwood's. Arianne had never forgiven her mother for leaving. Quentyn understood to a certain extent and had a slightly better relationship with her than Doran did. Trystane had no memory of her and only wrote letters to her out of courtesy.

"The lands of the Free Cities can be treacherous, so can the Dothraki Sea," Doran reminded her. "Your brother must exercise caution." His daughter nodded before changing the subject.

"What do we do about Myrcella and Arya if Quentyn is successful?" Considering that his daughter had taken both princesses under her wing, as she did with her younger cousins when they let her, Doran understood her wariness.

"We hide them until we can be sure that no harm will come to either." No one would be butchering, or burning in this case due to the three reported dragons, children while he ruled Dorne. No one, Targaryen or not.

"And what do we do if Quentyn is unsuccessful?"

"Dorne has never fallen to dragon fire, and neither has the North. We will support our Northern cousins should it be necessary." As much as he would like a Martell to be named a king of the Iron Throne or queen if Viserys hadn't died, Doran would not push Daenerys Targaryen. That didn't mean that he would be cowed by her either. He would challenge her when he felt it needed to be done, for she needed to be challenged and not coddled.

His daughter hummed in thought but made no comment.

"What are you thinking about Arianne?" He asked her after a moment. His daughter huffed a breath before speaking.

"I am thinking that even if Quentyn can convince her of our good intentions and maybe even get her to marry him, we still have two immediate problems."

"Such as?"

"Jon and Torran. Don't get me wrong, they're good boys," He raised an eyebrow at her wording but let her continue. "but they are very stubborn, and stubbornly loyal to family and unless the marriage is secure, I don't think they will tolerate her. She may not even tolerate them considering their Stark blood." She of course knew that Jon was a Targaryen but he openly rejected that part of his heritage. Which Doran thought was a shame because despite recent history, and certain mad people, the Targaryen's were not a bad family to hail from. His goodbrother had been kind to his sister and even sought her approval before going through with his plan to take a second wife. Doran understood why Jon only focused on the negatives, but he hoped that one day he could make peace with the other half of his heritage.

"Yes they are stubborn but as you said they are loyal, to each other, to the North, to their wives and to house Martell. If I tell them to keep to themselves in regards to Daenerys, they will do so, albeit with reluctance. Now if she wishes to engage them, to challenge them, then I cannot be held responsible for what happens after such an event. But let us worry about that on the day of shall we? Who knows, the three of them may surprise us all." Even with Torran and Jon remaining in control of their gifts and doing what needed to be done, there was no telling what could happen. Doran had faith in them, as he was sure that everyone else was and he would continue too until proven otherwise.

He paused and rubbed his chin in thought.

"Your brother is more than capable of dealing with Daenerys and he has enough support around him for now. While her life has been filled with hardship, and while I am sure that she holds little love for those that rebelled against her family, I believe that she can be swayed to hold off on seeking revenge for now."

His daughter clearly had her doubts but she deferred to him and kept her peace. Doran understood the reservations that she, and even his friend Areo had, but Doran had been planning this ever since they had told him of Elia and her children. For fifteen years, soon to be sixteen years, he waited and waited for his moment to strike. Even when his gout worsened, he was more than willing to let his brother be what he always was, a viper and he would be the grass. Who could be afraid to walk upon the grass?

Now thanks to his nephews and their Maester, he could do more than he could before. Which reminded him of something.

"I will head to the training grounds and stretch my legs," He said, starting to stand. Both companions appeared startled, his daughter more so than his friend.

"Father?" His daughter murmured and Areo came to help him. Doran waved him off and reached for his cane.

"Maester Caleotte has said that I need to build up my leg strength otherwise the healing that I have done will be for naught. What better way to do that then to go see your cousins train. Perhaps I will take up a spear this day, it has been a long time since I have done so." Almost twelve years, he thought with a small degree of bitterness. Like his brother, he loved the spear as a weapon. Not only was it a part of their family sigil, it was the weapon their mother Meria had chosen to learn about when she was given the choice. He doubted that he would suddenly be able to do all that he had done in the past but he wouldn't mind retraining his body to do so.

"If you are sure."

He smiled at his daughters concern but he was determined to see this done. So with that in mind, he began his trek to the training grounds.

* * *

 

Tywin Lannister was seething with rage as he read what his youngest son wrote. How could this have happened? One of his best soldiers dead, his daughter missing, and his grandson torn to pieces. What in the seven hells was going on in the capitol?

"It's as if everyone decided to lose their minds," He muttered to himself before continuing to read.

He took very little solace in the fact that Oberyn Martell and his ilk would be gone before he arrived. If these so called Sparrows were to rally behind the half mad Dornishman, then this madness would continue. Tywin doubted that Oberyn Martell could have planned something like this but considering that he wanted to raise Dorne for Viserys Targaryen all those years ago, and considering his well known hatred for anything resembling a Lion, he wouldn't put it past the man.

He pondered what to do in regards to his daughter. She had over stepped her bounds and paid the price for it. However, she was a Lannister despite taking Robert's name when they married and he would see her released. The question would be how to do so. The people in the capitol used to respect him and jokingly referred to him as king. Ever since he sacked the city and killed all the Targaryen loyalist in it for Robert that had changed. They cursed his family name and would probably sneer at him when he wasn't looking.

Tywin cared not if they liked him but with this new player in the game, it would be difficult to make any maneuvers. Given how devout these people sounded, Tywin doubted that he could bribe them. Which meant that a lot of non monetary deals would have to be made. Tywin could handle that, but first, he would need to speak with his grandson face to face to gauge how this one would be as king.

* * *

 

Theon grunted as he swung his sword and missed his target. Maester Luwin had told him that it would take time to adjust to his loss. He would have to work harder than before to be able to swing his sword in the right direction to make sure he didn't miss. Theon didn't mind training but he hated being able to see only half of what was in front of him. He also hated that he wasn't fast enough and strong enough to prevent Ramsay Snow from taking his eye in the first place. He took some comfort in the fact that Ramsay was dead but that wasn't much.

"You came close that time," Bran's voice came from his left and he had to turn fully to see his little brother. Bran sat in his wheel chair that was pushed by Hodor. He only used it when inside the walls of Winterfell, which was more often now since it had been locked down. He had a long brown box resting on each arm of the chair. Theon looked at it with mild interest before looking at Bran.

"You don't need to say nice things to me Prince Brandon," Theon grumbled petulantly, turning away from his brother. He took another swing and managed to nick the wooden post this time. He considered it an improvement. "I'm a man grown and don't need to be babied."

Bran sighed, "I wasn't trying to baby you, but since you sound like a grumpy arse maybe you need to be changed or burped?" Theon turned to him, shocked and angry. Before he could say anything, Bran snapped, "You have no idea what it means to be babied! I've been babied since that Lannister bitch pushed me out of a window!" Bran took a deep breath and rubbed at his face. Hodor shifted nervously behind him but neither paid him any mind. Theon had told Robb that Bran could remember what happened to him. Bran had told him who actually did it and the Kingslayer had reluctantly confirmed that yes, his sister had been the one to do the deed. Theon didn't really care which one did it as long as they paid for what happened.

"I am not going to baby you Theon because I know that such a thing is more than unfair. I am also not going to compare our situations because that too is unfair. I will, however, give you grief for how you've been acting towards our queen and our niece."

Theon turned away once more, but this time it was out of shame.

"I just don't want either of them to see me like this," Theon muttered but Bran scoffed.

"You think that a baby and one of your best friends is going to care that you lost an eye? You think that any of us look at you differently than before?" Theon said nothing but Bran pressed on. "Tell me Theon, what do you think you are now that you've lost an eye?"

Theon ignored him and started to swing at the post once more and missed.

"I asked you a question Theon."

"Leave it." Theon growled, swinging harder and managed to hit the post this time. It got stuck and Theon gripped the post to try and pull it out.

"Theon!"

"Leave it you brat!" Theon snapped back without thinking and he winced when he noticed the looks that he was getting from the others in the training yard. "I'm sorry-"

"I didn't ask for an apology," Bran made a slashing motion with his hands, cutting Theon off. "I want an answer."

Theon could feel his good eye, his only eye, well up as he shook his head at Bran. He so desperately wanted the other eye to do the same but when it didn't happen a sob escaped his lips. His sob turned to a scream and he yanked his sword out of the post and started hacking away. He sobbed harder with each strike and with one vicious stroke, he cleaved the post in two but he also bent his sword out of shape. He threw his sword away and fell to his knees with a sob.

"Isn't it better to let it all out," Bran asked him calmly.

"Fuck you!" Theon snarled, glaring at Bran and ignoring the gasp from behind him.

"Its alright Maester Luwin," Bran murmured to someone behind him and Theon closed his eye. Of course the Maester would be right behind him when he said that. "I deserved that one, but I'm not wrong am I Theon, you feel a little better don't you?" When Theon said nothing but looked up at him, he continued. "I can't tell you how many times I scared poor Hodor with all the times I screamed out there." He pointed beyond the walls of Winterfell. "But I needed to do it because I felt trapped in my own body and I probably always would be if not for our Maester's brilliance. Our situations couldn't be more different but it doesn't mean that we don't feel the same."

Bran sighed, "I know it seems like I came here to bother you, but I do have another reason for being here." He opened the box in his lap. "This is yours."

Theon barely lifted his head to look into the box. His jaw clenched at what was in it. A Valyrian steel blade with a brown leather handle and a black Kraken shaped cross guard with a round black pommel. The head of the Kraken was facing down the handle and its eight tentacles were facing up the blade and curled in. There was also a grey leather eye patch with a black wolf on it.

"You will take it," Bran said sternly before Theon could open his mouth. "Its yours and I will not let you cast it aside to rust."

Theon snorted in derision. The blade in his brothers lap would never rust or lose its edge.

"And Allyria made that patch for you and you will wear it even if I have to nail it to your face. Take them Theon, you need something better than that rag on your head and your sword is no longer good. Of course, I was going to give this to you regardless of whether or not that was the case but still..." He trailed off and raised an eyebrow at Theon.

Theon simply stared at him before getting to his feet. He opened his mouth to refuse the gifts but Bran gave him the same stare that Lord Eddard had given to all of them as children. It wasn't an angry or violent stare but one filled with disappointment that more often than not made all of the children he raised feel deeply ashamed.

"Why a Kraken my prince," Theon croaked instead to try and take his mind off of that feeling.

"Just because the Greyjoy's have proven unworthy of you, it doesn't mean that you need to forget about the Kraken. I doubt Robb asked that of you and if he did then he's an idiot but really, what reason do you need to do so?" Bran removed the sword from the box, placed it in its scabbard, and held it out to him. Theon gripped the in between space with one hand and closed his eye before lifting it away from Bran. Theon looked down at his brother.

"Thank you," He said quietly before reaching for the eye patch. "Maester Luwin, I need some assistance."

The Maester helped him remove the wrappings from his head. Bran didn't gasp at seeing the mess that was once his eye. Maester Luwin sewed it shut to help the skin basically heal over so he wouldn't have to keep airing it out but it still wasn't pretty. Theon fixed his hair after the Maester fastened the patch in the back of his head. He gave him a nod of thanks to the Maester before turning his attention to Bran.

"By your leave my prince, I would like to see our queen, to...apologize for my behavior." He had been purposefully avoiding Allyria ever since his injury. He had been the closet thing she had to a friend since she came here, both bonded over the fact that they were outsiders in this frozen land. And he ignored her in favor of moping. By the Gods he had truly become a Northmen.

"Of course prince Theon," Bran murmured, oblivious to his inner revelation. "Just don't be surprised if she turns you away at first. You have been a massive arse as of late." Theon just nodded at his words. "What do you plan to name it?" Bran nodded at the sword.

Theon looked down at the sword, names flying about in his mind. Seamist stuck out the most but looking at the cross guard gave him some inspiration.

"Seastone," He whispered before speaking up. "Its name will be Seastone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so in my version, Cersei pushed Bran out of the window, not Jaime. Its not some ploy to try and redeem Jaime but in my head, Jaime would be better with kids except his own (For various reasons - mainly because he can't claim them). Cersei, on the other hand, definitely loves her children but just doesn't care for other children, especially those from families she isn't fond of, like the Stark's.
> 
> Doran and Theon will take some time to heal from their afflictions but I won't drag it out and there will be progress on them both.
> 
> What do you all think about the name for Theon's sword? And does anyone have any more idea's for Gendry's sword? Fury has been suggested but I wouldn't mind some more. I came up with a few like Stormwater, Thunderclap, and Downpour. Anyone interested in those? Let me know.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this but I struggled on what to include in this chapter. Three POV's this time, two from those we have only heard about or were in someone else's POV.

"Love is not a simple thing," Lady Ashara told Sansa and the rest in her cabin. Ser Daemon and Brienne stood near the door, Ellaria and Rebekah sat on either side of Sansa with Alyssa being held by Ellaria. "It is a wonderful thing but its not always the best thing. It has been said that it is the death of duty. In Dorne, that saying is not as true but everywhere else in Westeros?" She shook her head sadly. "It always comes second."

"Is that what happened, between you and my father?" Sansa could feel Ellaria's gaze on her but she only looked forward. She needed to know why this woman was willing to help her when she had every reason to do the opposite.

"Oh the stories you must have been told," Ashara chuckled wryly and took a sip of her wine. "Your father loved me, of that I have no doubt. But he was swayed into honoring the agreement between Hoster Tully and his father Rickard. Lord Hoster wanted a future lord Stark to marry his daughter and Jon Arryn was like a father to Ned and convinced him that they needed the men for the war. Not to mention the friendship your father had with the great Robert Baratheon." She said mockingly then eyed Sansa seriously. "How much do you know about what happened with your aunt?"

"Only what everyone else does," Sansa frowned in confusion.

"So basically nothing," Ashara muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. "I am assuming that you know about her brother?" She asked Ellaria who nodded reluctantly. "Then when you next see him, tell Oberyn that she needs to know as well." Ashara nodded at Sansa. "If that was always the plan then my apologies for the assumption that it wasn't."

"What do I need to know?" Sansa interrupted the by play but Ashara just smiled.

"You will have to wait till you arrive in Dorne princess," Sansa frowned at the reply but Ashara continued on. "And you may have to wait for your husband to broach the subject with his brother. Or maybe the brother you have in Dorne will explain it too you."

"I have two brothers in Dorne my lady."

"Oh really," Ashara murmured with amusement and Sansa shifted in her seat almost nervously. "So Alystar Borrsen of Norvos is not your uncle's blood son, Torran is it? It has been years since I last saw your uncle Brandon - may he rest in peace - but I remember enough of him to see his features in his progeny."

Sansa and the rest said nothing except for Ellaria.

"Have you told your husband my lady?" She asked sharply and Ashara raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like a fool Ellaria? As much as my husband has been kind to me and my children, I would never jeopardize Oberyn and his family by revealing something like that. However, Oberyn is a smart man despite how he likes to portray himself, so he must know that he is no longer welcomed in the Capitol, and made plans to leave or has done so by now."

Ships unfortunately could not receive ravens when they were on the move so they were all in the dark in regards to Oberyn's status and that of his party.

"I just had to be sure," Ellaria said with a casual shrug and Sansa frowned at her. Ellaria gave her a wink but turned back to Ashara. "I was afraid you may have lost your Dornish sensibilities, after all, you've lived in Dragonstone for a long time."

"Understandable intentions but thoroughly misplaced," Ashara said flatly though a smile tugged at her lips. "I never forgot where I came from."

"Forgive my assumption," Ellaria's words only sounded partially sincere to Sansa's ears but it wasn't because Ellaria was being mean. Both women looked at each other then burst out laughing, much to Sansa's confusion. Glancing around, she saw that everyone else was confused as well. Alyssa made a sound as she squirmed in Ellaria's arms at the sudden noise.

"Oh Ashara, it has been so long," Ellaria murmured, bouncing Alyssa in her arms to calm her. "Ashara and I used to serve as handmaidens to Princess Elia. My father, Lord Harmen Uller, sent me to Sunspear after I learned enough about running a keep. He wanted me to learn more about court life from the Royal family of Dorne." She explains with a shrug. Sansa tries not to wrinkle her nose at having a trick played on her but she must have twitched because Ellaria cupped her face. It was a silent apology, and Sansa leaned into Ellaria's hand to show that she understood.

"The Dayne's have always been loyal to Dorne and those that rule it," Ashara took another sip of wine but this time she did it with a grimace. "Despite what some of my cousins think, that will always be the case. I am only glad that my brother Urick took over as Lord of the house when I was married off and named my son as heir. I will be forever grateful to him for that."

Sansa tried not to frown or shift in her seat at this. Edric Dayne was the only brother she had that she never met and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. She had been invited to come along with Lady Ashara to Starfall but had politely declined, saying that she needed to see her family first. She also needed to present herself to Prince Doran and his family. Not to mention the rest of Oberyn's children, which was a meeting she was dreading. Not because of their being bastards, but because here she was, a true born lady married to their father, and would probably give him true born children, most likely daughters given her husbands track record.

She knew that she had to earn their trust and let them know that she wasn't trying to replace Ellaria, who they all looked to as mother, even the ones she had not given birth to. She also had to let them know that she wouldn't see them sent away or treat them any differently than her own children when they are born. As much as she loved and wished to emulate her when she was a girl, she is not her mother Catelyn and she refused to treat the girls badly as she had once done to her brothers.

"Are your children excited to go to Dorne," She asks to distract herself from her thoughts and the woman in front of her regards her thoughtfully. Sansa knew that all the children that accompanied were excited to be on the ship, given how they were driving the crew up the wall with their antics, but she was afraid to ask them a direct question.

"My boys are but my daughter isn't," Ashara murmured and something in Sansa's stomach twists at the woman's fond tone. She tries to ignore it as Ashara continues. "Shireen prefers to stay in Dragonstone near her father but my sons have longed for adventure and to see their brother once more."

Arthur, Steffon, and Cassus, her sons, were a bunch of scamps even though Arthur tried his best to behave, given that he was the oldest at five and ten and heir to Dragonstone. The two younger boys were practically twins despite one having Lady Ashara's blonde hair and one being born two years after the other. It still didn't stop them from causing all kinds of mischief.

"You would like him, I think," Lady Ashara said to her suddenly. Her face is casual and Sansa cannot detect any ulterior motives from her. "Edric, I mean."

"I have been told that he is kind," Sansa murmurs in reply and the feeling returns in the pit of her stomach. She tried to change the subject away from Ashara's son with, "I am sorry that his kind gesture did not go as planned. And I am sorry for the injuries your cousin sustained."

Apparently she wasn't as subtle about the change as she wanted to be because Lady Ashara raised an eyebrow at her. Thankfully, she continued with the subject.

"What Gerold did only brought further shame to the house after what happened at my little sisters wedding. I know that my son and brother are working hard to correct this, and I wish them all the best."

"Do your cousin's not like Edric because he is your son?" The question came out her mouth before she could stop herself and her eyes began to sting as she held in her tears. "Or do they not like that he is my of my fathers blood?"

Looking at Lady Ashara, Sansa understood the feeling she had in her stomach: shame. Not shame about being in Lady Ashara's presence but shame for how her father had dishonored the woman in front of her. Her lord father should have just gone through with his betrothal, with or without Lord Hoster's men. She felt Rebekah and Ellaria take her hands to offer support.

"To be completely honest with you, princess, I am unsure," Lady Ashara said slowly, eyes sharply watching Sansa. "They all say different things but with one commonality - myself. Some say I was dishonored because of the breaking of my marriage agreement. Some say that I was dishonored for having a bastard son despite bastards being celebrated in Dorne. And others say that Jon Arryn and Prince Doran dishonored me when they had me wed to a Stormlander - and a Baratheon at that."

She looked to Rebekah, "My apologies Rebekah, but as much as the Stormlands lost in the war, we lost as well. Ten thousand soldiers, three princes, and two princesses. One of which was my best friend and a damn good woman. I may be apart of the ruling family of Westeros but that does not mean that I forgot about what happened. Nor does it mean that I forgave those that trespassed against Dorne."

"I understand," Rebekah said then reached for her special milk with a grimace. The Maester on board had confirmed that she was with child when she said that her stomach rolled every so often. She said that she couldn't be seasick because she had sailed before with her father and she was fine. Sansa had been with her when the Maester and drawn some blood and mixed it in some concoctions to determine if her pregnancy was real. Sansa had been genuinely happy for her when the news had been confirmed and the Maester gave her some type of milk to help settle the babe.

"It will get easier, Rebekah," Ellaria murmured from her right. "The first child can sometimes be difficult to deal with but you are surrounded by those with experience. Though, I have no doubt that you will have plenty of experience yourself when the time comes."

"Let us see how this one goes first," Rebekah murmured back, rubbing at her belly. "If it doesn't go well I'll turn Torran into a eunuch before he ever touches me again."

"That's what I said when I was pregnant the second time, and I went on to have two more children with Oberyn." Ellaria said with a small laugh.

"Eight children," Ashara shook her head fondly. "Nine if you count the little one here. Its a wonder that you can keep track of all of them."

"We manage," Ellaria smiled and glanced at Sansa. "They'll love you, dearest, I promise."

Sansa wished that she could believe that, but resolved herself to stick with her plan. Still, she nodded politely at what Ellaria said and gave her a smile. Ellaria gave her a look but said nothing.

"I do apologize if I failed to answer your question princess," Lady Ashara draws her attention. "But I truly do not know why my cousins feel the need to do what the do, and their answers make no sense."

"Oh no my lady, there is no need to apologize," Not to me at least, Sansa thought to herself. No, if anyone needed an apology it was Ashara Dayne. Unfortunately, the people who should have done it were already dead. "I was just wondering if you had any insight."

Ashara just shrugged her answer and changed the topic. Sansa was glad since she wasn't sure that she could handle talking about what her question raised any more. Even with knowing what she was feeling, she didn't understand what possessed her to speak the questions on her mind. She just hoped that nothing bad would happen because of it.

* * *

 

Jaime sighed to himself as he thought back to his time as a captive. Robb Stark was a frustrating person, if only because Jaime couldn't get a read on him. Now Jaime knew that he wasn't as smart as his father or brother, but he was good at reading people, how else did he know how to push people's buttons and bask in the satisfaction it gave him?

Robb's father was one of those honorable fools who couldn't even fathom the idea of getting his hands dirty, even if it meant saving the lives of the many. Jaime knew that Eddard Stark detested him and his family, for what was done during Robert's rebellion. Jamie scoffed at the thought, what right did a mere wolf have to judge a pride of lions? Of course, Jaime stood by his decision of killing Aerys Targaryen but the rest...

Jaime closed his eyes as the nightmares that plagued him from time to time came to his mind.

"You let them die," Prince Rhaegar's voice would snarl at him before he would appear in front of him. "You could kill my father but couldn't save my family?"

"It wasn't my fault," Jaime would always say in response. "I'd never thought he would hurt them."

The shade of his former prince would sometimes be joined by his fallen brothers of the Kingsguard, mainly prince Lewyn Martell and Arthur Dayne. They called him oath breaker, false brother, and traitor. He could deal with that, but he could not deal with his former prince and the reminder of his failure. Did people think he enjoyed the fact that princess Elia and her children were butchered? And by his fathers Bannermen no less?

For whatever reason, Lyanna Stark had joined them when he was held captive, and berated him for not saving her nephew, Brandon.

"It wasn't my responsibility to save him from my sister," Is what he often said to her and what he also said to Robb Stark when asked why he didn't stop his sister from nearly killing him. Lyanna Stark shrieked at him like a wailing spirit when he said it to her but the young wolf had been calm. Jaime had only realized his mistake too late and Robb Stark left him in his cage, ignoring his calls for him to come back.

Robb Stark came back two days later, and Jaime tried to subtly imply that it was he who pushed Bran Stark out of a window.

"The world knows that a Lannister lies often," Robb Stark had murmured to him. "and you all think that you're so smart, like your ancestor Lann the Clever, but I noticed something about you Ser Jaime. When you're deeply distracted or bored, your mouth runs away from you. And now, when you're alert, you try to lie to me. My brother prince Brandon remembers what happened to him, according my brother prince Theon. Neither one has a reason to lie, especially not about this."

Jaime had tried to remain adamant that it was he who had done the deed, but even his words had sounded false to him. Jaime blamed the stress of the situation for his slip up but maybe it was something more. Why else would he betray his sister so?

Cersei, He thought with another sigh, he had missed her so. No one on the ship taking him to Kings Landing would tell him anything about the Capitol. Which could mean many things, but only two came to his mind. One, they didn't know anything, which was possible since they had traveled for days to to get to a ship with their Riverlands escort. The rarely stopped in places where they could receive messages and could only send them out. The other option was that something terrible had happened, and they were too craven to tell him.

He hoped nothing bad happened to any of them in the Capitol, not even Joffrey with all of his...difficulties. Jaime supposed that it shouldn't be that much of a surprise, given how Joffrey was the product of he and Cersei. She never told him that exactly but Jaime could see a part of his younger self in Joffrey every time he looked at him. There was also the fact that Cersei never allowed him to touch her before she had Tommen and Myrcella - probably at their fathers urging - and both turned out fine despite being Robert's children. He loved them all the same, even if it hurt that they weren't actually his.

What he and Cersei did in Winterfell was the first time in a long time, and they relished in the feeling of each other. Then the boy had come, and Cersei had done the unthinkable. While Jaime just stood and watched.

Even now he shook his head, why did he just stand there and let his sister harm a child? Even if she was his sister, he still could have stopped her knowing full well that Robert Baratheon would have killed the two of them if he found out. When he looked out the window after it was done, he thought the boy had died instantly. He didn't wish it to be so but he thought it would be better than the boy becoming a cripple. Somehow the boy had survived and if Robb Stark was to be believed, he would walk again.

Jaime wasn't stupid, he knew Robb Stark was rubbing what his sister would see as a failure in his face. Not once did he mock his father Tywin for failing to gain ground in the Riverlands in front of him. Not once did he mock Jaime for getting captured or threaten him with his direwolf. But when it came to Cersei, there was a sense of smug satisfaction that seemed to radiate out of every pore when he spoke of his brothers continued health, though it never showed on his face.

He had even been kind to Jaime and wished him well when he was being sent away. The young lord clearly had honor but he didn't wear it or his heart on his sleeve like his father. He also didn't act rashly like his mother did during the skirmishes they had but he was not incapable of relaying how he really felt without telling. He was a conundrum, something Jaime did not like, not one bit.

Yet Jaime couldn't think of a way to deal with him permanently. And maybe he didn't want too.

* * *

 

Allyria watched her daughter giggle up at her 'Theo' when he tickled her.

"So you've finally decided to stop acting like a P-R-I-C-K have you," She first said to him when he entered her room. She was having some mild contractions on and off for sometime but she agreed with Maester Luwin that they were not true contractions. Her daughter smiled happily at Theon and reached for him chanting 'Theo, Theo' all the while. Theon hesitated but Allyria just rolled her eyes and handed Sara to him. She was actually grateful that he came because she needed to take her mind off of the contractions. She was also happy that he accepted her gift.

Was she angry at him? A little, mostly because he wasn't spending time with his niece but thankfully her daughter was young enough to be easily distracted. But seeing him hold her daughter like the precious gift that she was, her temper had cooled. She wasn't going to let him off easy, however.

"Well have you?" She asked him after a few more minutes and he startled.

"Um yes your grace," He murmured to her, as he flushed red. "Please, I humbly beg your pardon, I didn't mean to distance myself from you so."

"And what did you actually intend to do?" She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing full well that he was lying to her. She absently rubbed at her belly before Theon spoke again.

"Better myself after some training and return to your service."

"Theon, you've lied a lot better than that before, try again."

He hesitated before swallowing and saying, "I didn't actually have a plan, I just didn't want anyone to see me so...weak." He finished in a whisper but she heard him and her anger flared. She took a deep breath and rubbed her stomach to calm down.

"And why, prince Theon, would I or anyone else consider you weak?" She almost snapped at him, taking no pleasure in the fact that he flinched. "Do you consider those that are not whole to be weak?"

"Of course not!" He protested and she ignored the contraction that hit her, thinking it was just another false one.

"Well then how else could a wondrously stupid thought destroy your sense of reason if it wasn't already in your mind?" He flinched again but so did she. Her contractions started to get worse and she gripped the bed post for support.

"Your grace?" Theon frowned at her and she grimaced as she felt birth water fall between her legs and on to the floor. Theon stared at her in shock, and she grimaced again, knowing what he was thinking, the baby had come three weeks early.

"Get Maester Luwin Theon, it seems that my child is ready to be born."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? 
> 
> And don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen to Sansa, but she thinks something might until proven otherwise.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of sex and consensual touching. Not much else after that.

"Your grace, you cannot possibly mean to cede the North to the Stark's?" Tyrion asked his nephew Tommen incredulously as the young boy paced.

"My lord hand, the people will continue to riot because they feel the effects of war the most." His new king replied firmly though it was strange since he wasn't even of age just yet. "We wouldn't even have gone to war if my brother didn't murder Lord Eddard Stark near the Sept of Baelor. No my lord, a war with the North will not continue. If they want to be independent, then let them."

"So now you will be king of six kingdoms, your grace?" Varys tittered from Tyrion's left and he was grateful for the question. He had been thinking to ask that himself but he was beginning to develop a headache. How was he supposed to explain this to his father? Especially since he was sure his father would somehow blame this on him.

"Five kingdoms, maybe four or three, which is better than nothing." Tommen's reply had him all staring at him in varying degrees of confusion and interest. Seeing this he elaborated, "Lannister forces were forced to retreat from the Riverlands but I don't expect Hoster Tully or any of the River Lords to break bread with us, so their status remains undetermined. The Vale remained neutral during this conflict, and I'm not sure that there is anything we have that can sway them away from that position. Their status is also undetermined for now. The Iron Islands will continue to rebel until they are brought to heel if they can be. The North will no longer be ours and Dorne only promised to keep the peace, not stay united with everyone else."

There was a stunned silence from the council and Tommen snorted at their faces.

"I may be young my lords, but I do pay attention to my lessons," He murmured with an irritated sigh. "And I know for sure that Dorne will also remain neutral but their status is clear: independence."

"B-but we-e s-sent t-them y-your s-sister, y-your g-grace." Maester Pycelle stuttered a reply and Tyrion closed his eyes. Did this old fool think that no one could see through his performance? If Pycelle really was a pious, frail, and stuttering old man then Tyrion would fuck a goat covered in olive oil and convince Shae to join in. Thankfully Pycelle was none of those things, if all the whores coming and going from his room were any indication.

"In the name of peace, Grand Maester," Tyrion watched his nephew stare at Pycelle as if he were a bug and Tyrion almost smiled as the old man blanched. It seemed his nephew didn't care for the Maester either. "Not once was their rejoining the rest of Westeros discussed between any of my uncles and Prince Oberyn." Tommen looked to him and Renly Baratheon, who sat at his right. Tyrion nodded reluctantly. He knew that they had sent Myrcella and Sansa Stark into the snake pit but snakes didn't always bite or spew venom. The smallfolk of the Capitol were rightfully vicious, and an immediate concern, so Tyrion wouldn't be crying over the fact that Myrcella was in Dorne or that Lady Sansa was headed in that direction.

"We should be grateful, that they were willing to keep the peace, instead of demanding the heads of my mother, my brother and my sister when Jon Arryn died. Let us hope that they are satisfied with the head of Gregor Clegane."

It had been four days since the Trial of Seven had taken place and Cersei was still in Flea Bottom. She refused to rise to the baiting of the smallfolk but she did demand to be released. The High Sparrow had been quiet and kind in his demands for Cersei to stand trial, which she turned into one of combat, naming Jaime as her champion. It would be a fortnight before Jaime would arrive in Kings Landing and he would need a few days to prepare. The High Sparrow demanded that she remain in their custody until then. Tommen allowed it though they could have easily taken her away.

Tyrion knew that Cersei felt she had done no wrong, claiming that it was her right as queen.

"Queen regent," He had snapped at her when he saw her last. "That is your title you half wit. You stopped being queen the moment your husband died. And because of your stupidity, we all almost died!" He took a breath to calm down but Cersei opened her mouth.

"How dare you speak to me this way you ungrateful monster," She snarled at him.

"I dare because I am right and you are wrong!" He roared at her and she flinched. He struggled to breath as he shook with rage. "Your son is dead because of you, and your second son almost died. I know you don't care that I almost died as well since you and father cannot let go of what happened to mother - which was not my fault. But you should care that two of Lord Mace Tyrell's children almost died. If they had, everyone of the smallfolk would probably be starved further when the Tyrell's withdrew their support.

"You, simply put, fucked up and are now paying the price. Be grateful that you were not torn apart like Joffrey, and that Jaime has both his hands for now, otherwise you would be rotting here for the rest of your days!"

Tyrion knew that Cersei thought herself to be like their father, only with a cunt and a pair of tits. She probably bemoaned the fact that her sex was never given a fair shake in the game that was called life. That part was true, but people didn't look down on Cersei just because she was a woman, they looked down on her because she was a spoiled bitch who rubbed people the wrong way. At least that's how he saw it.

He left her, still shaking with rage and went with Bronn to get drunk at Baelish's whore house even though the owner wasn't there. Tyrion did think it strange but the Majordomo said that Petyr Baelish was called back to the Vale to deal with his family home. The new master of coin would be Mace Tyrell, who was on his way here, but Tyrion was tasked with handling the coffers for now. He and Renly Baratheon shared the duty as the kings hand between them as a result since Tommen didn't really trust anyone else.

"Is there any other business my lords?" Everyone shook their heads and Tommen sighed again, this time in relief. "Then the meeting is adjourned." Tommen left through the side door, probably to see Lady Margaery, as the scribe announced.

"And so ends the small council meeting of the twenty first day, in the eleventh month of 298 AL."

The scribe wrote a small note in his book before he left along with the rest except for Lord Renly.

"Is there a problem my lord?" Tyrion really wasn't in the mood to keep talking but Renly Baratheon was good enough company so he let it go.

"Do you think what he is doing is right? Ceding the North I mean." Tyrion thought about it before speaking.

"We don't have any other option except to ally with the Iron Islands, who despise us more than they despise the North. People will see this as a sign of weakness, but it will help cool the tempers of those that suffer."

Renly just nodded at his words and took his leave. Tyrion sighed to himself and hopped out of his chair to do the same, thinking of the best way to get to his rooms without someone trying to ask him about something.

* * *

 

Robb stared down at the letter in his hands with a small smile on his face. His wife had borne him a son named Nymor, after the prince of Dorne who ruled after his mother died and continued to defy Aegon the conqueror. Despite being born three weeks early, his son was in good health and so was his wife.

He made a mental note to share the news with his family in Dorne as he burnt the letter with a candle.

"Good news, your grace?" Dacey Mormont asks him.

"My wife has given birth," He murmured to his old friend and member of his Winterguard. "I have a son, his name is Nymor."

"Congratulations on another child, your grace. I suppose we shouldn't tell your mother about this then?" He raised his eyebrows at her waspish tone. She just shrugged at him."Your mother has this really annoying habit of thinking that you don't have final say in regards to heirs, your grace. When she learns of this, I have no doubt that she will try her hardest to convince you to name your son as heir, as her precious Southron tradition dictates."

Robb knew that the Mormont family often had more daughters for heirs than sons, and they had nearly faced extinction. In the traditional Southron sense at least. Before Southron traditions had seeped their way into the North, anyone could inherit the titles and lands of their family and the family name could still continue on. The first born still came first, but there was hardly any dispute if a bastard or female member were next to inherit.

That suited the Mormont family fine, especially in this generation with there being more women and the male heir leaving his home in disgrace. Dacey was her mother's heir and would look after Bear Island when she died, though Robb suspected that Dacey would give up her claim and stay in the guard.

"She may try," Robb replied casually, not even bothering to put on a more regal air. "but she will fail. My daughter will be queen of the North unless she wishes to give up her claim. I will support whatever decision she makes, though that will be sometime yet. We need to further secure the North first."

"Of course," Dacey nodded before retrieving a piece of paper and holding it out to him. The paper only had one simple question on it

'Will we be getting any support from your sisters husband?'

"Most likely from afar, if at all." Robb's answer was quiet and he burned the paper. There could be spies everywhere and Robb was not going to put his sister in danger by running his mouth. Dacey just nodded her slowly, understanding what was left on said. "I have news of your cousin."

"I don't have one your grace," Dacey replied sharply, eyes narrowed in warning. Robb knew he was treading on thin ice and should have let it go, but this needed to be done.

"Humor me," Robb held up a placating hand. Dacey scowled but nodded once for him to continue. "He is in the employ of Daenerys Targaryen as her sworn sword." Dacey no longer scowled but she still narrowed her eyes.

"So that walking disgrace works for the daughter of the Mad King, what a pair they make."

"The Mad King was her father, yes, but that is no reason to cast aspersions upon her." Robb's voice was still quiet though a hint of steel entered his tone. "Lest you forget my lady, my father was dubbed a traitor and his friend, my namesake, was known as the usurper. Those that truly knew my father knows that he only did what he did in the name of justice, not because he wanted to commit treason.

"I am sure that there are those that call me the same but my cause is the same as my fathers. We know nothing personal of the woman so far east other than her parentage, which cannot be held against her just like mine cannot be held against me."

"That's all well and good your grace, but one cannot ignore the fact that her father took pleasure in burning people alive. I feel that I have a right to be wary of anyone that shared blood with Aerys Targaryen."

Robb pursed his lips and stopped himself from saying more. Dacey was right to be wary, but Robb was hardly wrong either. His defense of Daenerys Targaryen came form the fact that she wasn't even born when her father did what he did, so how could she be held responsible for that? His defense also came from the fact that this was Jon's remaining family member on his father's side. Robb knew of his brothers fears but he felt that Jon would need to embrace his Targaryen heritage sooner or later. If only because it wasn't so easily ignored.

If any spy had listened to the conversation up until this point, they may have taken Robb for a bigger fool than they thought he was. Which suited Robb perfectly.

"I have a task for you Dacey," He said instead. "I ask this of you as your king and your friend."

"Name it," Dacey prompted him.

 _"I want you to travel to Dorne,"_ This time Robb spoke in High Valyrian. He had been teaching it to his most trusted advisers with his uncle and Dacey picking it up the quickest. His uncle Brynden did because he had learned part of it in his youth. Dacey did because despite how some people viewed her, she was a smart woman and a fast study. Both still stumbled from time to time but they were doing a better job than most. _"I plan to send Samwell Tarly and the Maester of the Night's Watch there with gifts for my sisters. I want you to go there as their escort and to add more protection for my sisters, namely Sansa."_

Robb had no doubt that Sansa could learn to defend herself, but she was a lady above all and wasn't taught on how to hold a sword or how to take a life. Which was something that hadn't happened in the last generation of Stark's since they were all trained at the request of Lord Rickard.

_"Doesn't your sister have her own sworn defender already?"_

_"It couldn't hurt to have another one,"_ Robb shrugged. _"And if the Dornish get what they want, then the Targaryen girl will go to Dorne...and your cousin will follow."_

 _"You want me to watch him just in case,"_ Dacey nodded her head. _"I can do that your grace."_

 _"I am not asking you to harm or kill him,"_ Robb continued. _"But I want you to give him a message. Tell him that he can be welcomed back to the North but only in a box or if he has his sword hand cut off. Bear Island will never be his either way."_

Dacey snorted and shook her head, _"I doubt that my cousin will like that but the look on his face may be worth the trip down south."_

Robb snorted as well, _"Not to mention the grief you'll be giving my brothers."_

 _"Yes, that boon will be much appreciated."_ Dacey grinned widely and her eyes filled with mischief. Robb snorted again.

"So I can trust you with this?" Robb resumed speaking in Andalai.

"I swear it on my honor as a Mormont and a citizen of the North. I will not fail you, your grace."

"Good, we will speak more of this when we reach Winterfell."

* * *

 

"Did you have a good time with my wife?" Torran smirked at Ros as she left the tent that he and Nymeria shared. She had been visiting them for the past couple of days and would either be with him, Nymeria or both. The moon was out for all to enjoy and the night air was cool. They were outside of the Kingswood in the Stormlands and would head to Grandview, and sail to the Tor from there. They were making some good time from Capitol but it would take them at least another month to get out of the Stormlands. They may not make it back to Dorne until after the new year.

"M hmm her tongue is absolute magic," Ros looked up at him through her lashes. "much better than yours. Though," She moved forward and one of her hands latched onto his crotch, rubbing it hard enough to make him slightly stiff. "She doesn't have this."

Torran leaned down and gave her a kiss, slipping one hand behind her and grabbing her right arse cheek roughly. She moaned into the kiss and pushed him back. Her eyes were glazed over with lust and Torran was sure that his had done the same.

"If you keep doing that, I'll make you fuck it in front of the entire camp." She hissed when he smacked her arse and squeezed it again. He gave her a grin and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I don't think anyone would complain, least of all you." Torran nibbled on her earlobe and pushed her back into the tent. He noticed his wife getting dressed over Ros's shoulder but she made no move to join them. "Didn't you beg me to fuck your lovely arse as my wife ate your cunt? That's how I remember it. Would you like to repeat the encounter?"

"I can't, Alystar, as much as I would like to," Ros pushed at his chest reluctantly and used his alias even though she knew who he really was. "I have to prepare for my journey to Bitteridge, I leave tomorrow."

Torran already knew this but he still wanted to spend time with her. She was of the North like him and he wanted to extend the hand of friendship and protection to her, for old times sake.

"You should come with us to Dorne, you would love it there and you could meet Rebekah."

"She sounds lovely but the heat and sun would likely be the death of me," She patted his cheek almost lovingly and pulled him into another kiss. "I could write to you and Nym if you'd like?" She suggested when they pulled away.

"Send it to Prince Oberyn," Torran nodded reluctantly and moved to the side to let her pass. "and he'll give it to me and Nym."

She ran her hand across his chest, and gave him a wink with an extra sway of her hips as she left.

"She did that on purpose," His wife commented to him as she came up to his side.

"I know," He wrapped an arm around her waist. "She likes to tease people, mainly those she knows that will treat her good."

"How do you know that?" Nymeria raised an eyebrow up at him.

"I visited her more than once when she still lived in the North, I noticed a few things." Torran shrugged a shoulder and sighed. Ros was the one who took his virginity and she was a decent listener but Torran was observant when he needed to be. When he saw Ros with the Baratheon Bannermen and looking a little out of place, he had invited her to meet Nym. "Rebekah would have loved her."

"Indeed," Nymeria murmured and leaned into his side. "She would have especially loved how good Ros's sex tasted when it was dripping wet."

Torran began to grimace as he started to speak again, this time about something unpleasant. "Love, do you know what happened to Petyr Baelish?" His question made his wife pull away from him and frown.

"We were both basking in the beauty and body of our lover and you felt the need to bring him up?" She asked incredulously and Torran winced.

"I know he's not the most pleasant thing to think about," Torran moved further into the tent and began to pace. "but something doesn't add up. From what I can tell from of the man, he wouldn't have just up and left his position without a good reason. Any dispute in his lands in the Vale could be handled by his Steward since they're small enough. If it required his attention, he would have to formally tell the King or at least the small council but none of them knew about him leaving - except maybe the spider but he didn't say anything of note."

Nymeria said nothing in response.

"My love, please, if you know something then tell me," He took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes silently pleading with her. "that man may have been responsible for what happened to my father and may have had designs for my sister. I cannot let him get away."

"I am not allowed to say but," She held up a hand to stop his protests. "If you can convince my father to speak of it, he will let you know."

Torran already knew that Oberyn was involved somehow but he also knew that Oberyn wouldn't tell him anything. If Oberyn already told Nym, but forbade her from telling him, then whatever happened must have been bad. Torran sighed in frustration and stepped away from his wife.

"You and I both know that is not going to happen," Torran told her. "And I doubt that he wants to be bothered when he is training my sisters new handmaidens...though I don't know what my sister is going to do with a Volantene contortionist and a girl who can touch one leg to the back of her head."

"They are part a peace offering for Ellaria, father knows that we've upset her, so he's hoping that bringing two beautiful women to her may soften her up. He is just calling them handmaidens and training them to be ones so they have a reason to be with us. They may leave whenever they like afterwards." Torran raised his eyebrows, he didn't know that.

"Ellaria won't stay mad at us forever but I suppose that its logical. She will like the redhead the most I think, what is her name again?"

"Marei."

"Lovely girl," Torran murmured and sighed. "If they stay long enough we may be able to spend more time with Rebekah."

"Can't wait to try again hmm?" Nymeria smirked up at him and he scoffed.

"Like you don't enjoy it either," He said as he went to retrieve some water. "You think that I didn't see how excited you got every time I came inside of our lover?" Nymeria just shrugged her answer before sighing.

"You're still thinking about Baelish aren't you?" She asked him flatly and Torran grimaced as he took a drink of water. "Just go talk to my father and he will tell you what you wish to know, I promise."

Torran stared at his wife for a few moments before nodding.

"Now how about we get something stronger and imagine much better looking men. Like that stable boy we shared awhile ago."

Torran bit back a laugh and nodded his agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it says that Oberyn is training the girls, he really is training the girls and not sleeping with them. That won't be changing any time soon despite Ellaria and Sansa being ok with him having sex with other people. You'll find out why in the next chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Subtle mentions to bad stuff because I think that our imagination can be much worse than the truth.

"We can take a break if you like," Jon looked up at Syrio's smirking face and glared at him. The training grounds in Sunspear was mostly empty by now so they were pretty much alone. They would only be in Sunspear until Sansa was near Dorne and they would retrieve her from the Tor and bring her here.

"No," He ground out, lips curled into a sneer, and swung his practice sword. The Braavosi warrior lazily blocked the strike and jumped to the side. He hit Jon across the stomach with a lazy flick of his wrist and when he was bent over, the Braavosi kicked Jon in the arse, sending him crashing to the ground.

In another life Jon would have considered Water Dancing to be more dancing than fighting but in this one he admired it. That didn't mean he liked getting his arse handed to him, nor did he like the fact that his wife and sister stopped practicing to watch it happen. He grunted as he got to his feet.

"You still wish to try?" Jon scowled at the smirking Braavosi before shaking his head. He knew when he was beat.

"I think that's enough for today," He muttered almost petulantly. Syrio just nodded his head extending his hand while the girls giggled at Jon. For his part, Jon took Syrio's hand and gave it a firm shake to show that there were no hard feelings. "I need to go speak to my apprentice." His sister immediately stopped giggling and scowled at him.

"I don't know why you bother talking to that bull headed, moronic-"

"Arya, I already told you," Jon cut in. "The only reason he has been acting the way he has is because he thinks that I am going to kill him."

"Well he's still breathing isn't he?" His sister shot back archly. "And all we did was kiss, its not as if I fu-"

"Arya!" Jon cut in again. As much as Jon was used to the idea of his sister being with Gendry, he did not need to hear that. Arya just huffed and asked Syrio to continue their lesson from earlier after thanking Tyene for her help. Tyene just smiled and nodded.

Jon took Tyene's hand and both left the other two to their task. They later found Gendry in one of the forges. The younger man flinched when he saw Jon.

"Gendry, I told you that no harm will come to you," Jon almost rolled his eyes but refrained from doing so. "not by my hand or anyone else's for what happened between you and Arya. If you two ever decide to become married-"

"We can't," Gendry grunted and struck the steel bar in front of him, sparks flying in every direction.

"And why is that?" Jon asked calmly, the he had an idea as to why Gendry said what he did.

"She's a high borne lady and I'm a bastard," Gendry hammered the block of steel rapidly to get it into shape he wanted. "It wouldn't be proper."

"Does my sister look like she cares about being proper," Jon asked him another question as Gendry put the steel block into a nearby fire. "She tends to wear clothes that boys wear, she likes to keep her hair short as opposed to long and if she had her way she would abolish many of the restrictive traditions in place. To put it simply Gendry, my sister does not like to be placed in the box called proper and anyone who tries to put her there is an idiot."

Gendry said nothing though it looked like he wanted to argue. Instead he just used his pair of tongs to retrieve the block of steel and went back to work.

"As for you being a bastard," Jon continued, sharing a look with his wife. She nodded for him to continue. "The resentment you've probably felt your entire life won't go away, but you can start anew. The best way to do that would be to make a request of my brother or Prince Doran."

Gendry paused mid strike and frowned at Jon, "What kind of request?" He asked suspiciously.

"A request to legitimize you," Jon said then added quickly before Gendry can speak. "It would be best if you and Arya wished to take it further and you could choose any name you like. You wouldn't need to take your fathers name, you've paid enough tribute to him." He nodded at Stormsong, Gendry's blade, in the corner of the room.

Gendry's expression became hopeful before it cleared, "Why would they would do something like that for someone like me?"

Jon repressed a sigh, "Prince Doran likes you enough, and my brother Robb will welcome you with open arms so long as you do right by Arya. They both have little reason not to do it." Doran actually complimented Gendry on his steel work when he saw some of the daggers that he produced. Jon saw Gendry humbly accept the praise but Jon could tell that he was happy in not upsetting the ruling Prince which was something he dreaded.

Gendry frowned even more, "I will...think about it. That's all I can promise Jon."

"I would never ask for what you weren't prepared to give. Though you should try and talk to Arya at some point."

Gendry gave Jon a grimace, "I'll try."

Jon almost smiled, "Good luck." He and Tyene left the forge and when they were far enough, Jon started to chuckle.

"What amuses you so my love?" Tyene raised a sandy blonde eyebrow at him.

"Gendry's going to have to go through all kinds of hell to get back into Arya's good graces," He smirked. "Either that or he'll apologize to her so much that he'll have to apologize for his apologies. Which will only irritate Arya some more."

"And that is supposed to be a good thing?"

"Their both annoyingly stubborn despite it being clear that they care about each other. I know it sounds mean but it is kind of nice for Arya to bug someone else and be bugged for a change." He shrugged at her. "Although we're probably going to hear her exclaim 'Seven Hells!' more often and hear more comments on how men are useless."

"With many things they are," His wife teased him. "But thank the Seven that you can be taught."

Jon just rolled his eyes and made no comment as they continued to walk.

"How do you feel about being an uncle again?" His wife asked him when they entered their rooms. Jon firmly closed the doors behind them and looked over to her as she sat on the bed.

"I wish I could meet the both of them," Jon said honestly. He only had descriptions of the two babes that were the first princess and prince of the North in over three centuries. Little Sara with her mother's blonde hair and face but Robb's eye color and shape. And young Nymor, with dark curls that had a bit of red to them, Robb's eye shape but his mother's purple eyes. It would be sometime before he could meet them, if the gods were good and the war ended in their favor. "But I am happy for my brother none the less."

His wife made a noise in the back of her throat that he couldn't identify before speaking again, "And are you excited with the prospect of fatherhood?"

Jon frowned slightly, not understanding the question. "I think we're both a little young to have children just yet but yes, I am." She already knew of his desire for a family so he wasn't sure why-

Oh gods, He thought, looking into her dark blue eyes. Is she...

"Tyene, are you...?" He trailed off as she bit her lip and nodded nervously and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I am with child."

A myriad of emotions tore through Jon, clawing their way through his heart in the hopes of being dominant. He wasn't sure how long he just stared at her but joy won out and he rushed forward with a smile to pull her into his arms. She giggled nervously as he spun her around and peppered her face with kisses.

"How long have you known?"

"A few days, almost a week" She murmured quietly. "I haven't bled in nearly two months and I had the Maester check just to be sure."

"So the bandages from before," Jon frowned. "You didn't get that wound from Obara?"

"No, she covered for me after Caleotte took a bit of blood from me."

"Why didn't you tell me before, love?" Jon wasn't hurt by her not telling him, just confused.

"I wasn't sure if you would be happy," She didn't look at him but her voice caught and he could feel her tears splash against his shirt.

"Why-"

"I heard you, with Torran," She interrupted him, looking up into his eyes and she sniffed. "I heard you speak about the supposed madness in your veins and I know how you feel about being Rhaegar's blood son. I-I have that blood through my father though not as much as you. I wasn't sure how you would react when I told you about this." She began crying in earnest and buried her face into his chest as she sobbed.

This time Jon did feel hurt but he also felt shame. He shouldn't have spoken those thoughts out loud. Taking a deep breath, he spoke soothingly and rubbed her back.

"I am not mad Tyene, not at you or the child. I should have never said what I thought about my...blood father's family. I was angry, at my Lord Father for lying to me. At my blood parents for being selfish and I spoke out of anger. I am not thrilled to be Rhaegar's son but I will not hold that against you or our child. I swear it on the old gods, may they strike me down if I ever fail in keeping my promise."

"Truly?" She hiccuped after pulling away from him. He gave her a loving smile.

"Truly." He leaned down and gave her a short kiss on the lips. "I will not go back on my word."

She hiccuped again but gave him a watery smile. Jon smiled back but then he felt the blood leave his face as a thought occurred to him.

"Jon? Jon what's wrong?" His wife said worryingly, having noticed his reaction.

"Your father is going to kill me." Was all he said and his wife had the audacity to laugh at him.

* * *

 

Oberyn smirked at Torran who was being accosted by the two new 'handmaidens' in his employ.

"Ladies, I have business with Prince Oberyn." Torran grumbled in his mangled accent. Oberyn knew it was a facade but it was clear that he wanted to speak with him.

"Leave us," He ordered and the women pouted at him. "We'll continue with your lessons later."

"Yes Prince Oberyn," They still pouted but left all the same. They still gave his goodson looks of want on the way out but he stared ahead.

"Be nice my friend, they are eager to know the one who made their companion cry out for all known gods these past few days," Oberyn's smirk remained on his face as Torran rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't the only one to do so, I had help." His goodson muttered in the same accent as before. "But my supposed prowess in bed is not the reason that I came here."

"Then why have you come here?"

"Lord Baelish."

"Ah," Oberyn swirled his blood orange juice in his hand before taking a sip. "What of him?"

"Where is he my prince?"

Oberyn eyed Torran for a moment. He debated on whether to simply tell him or feigning ignorance. His goodson was clearly not in the mood for games so the former option won out.

"I sent him to Dorne in chains," He answered primly. "Two ships left the Capitol the day your sister did, Dragonsbane and The Summer Wind, which is captained by Alleras the Sphinx."

Torran narrowed his eyes before he snorted, "So that's where your other child is."

Oberyn gave a grin but said nothing. Sarella was the only daughter of his that Jon and Torran did not meet. If they were lucky, they could see her before she went back to the sea and maybe to Old Town.

"What did Lord Baelish do to upset you, for you to have him thrown in chains, my prince?" Oberyn tried to keep his face calm but his rage must have come through because Torran frowned. "What did he do, Oberyn?" He demanded softly, his natural accent slipping through.

Oberyn took a deep breath, "What I am about to say to you does not leave this tent. No one in the camp will dare to report this to anyone and any spy will be dealt with immediately." He rumbled and Torran's posture became more straight.

"I will not tell a soul." Torran promised him.

"When I studied in the Citadel, so long ago," Oberyn began. "I was incredibly bored for most of my stay. Even when I took to learning about poisons, I grew bored of watching cauldrons boil and bubble for hours on end. But I kept learning about them, if only out of stubbornness. It was a woman's weapon they said. I saw fit to prove them wrong."

He picked up some grapes and popped a few into his mouth.

"Anyone who says that poison is a woman's weapon does not understand it," He continued after swallowing the grapes. "A dagger, a spear, and axe are the arms of passion. They are what warriors use when a battle cry is on their lips and when their lovers name is in their hearts. Poison is not made for passion. It is cold, calculating and above all neutral. Any sex can wield it expertly. The fact that a woman can use it is why it is dismissed as craven by most in Westeros. Is a woman's hate so strong that a man must be denied a powerful weapon? It confounded me that people thought so.

"We all have warriors in our realms but in Dorne, we encourage women to be more than a housewife for a fat lord or a septa, as you well know. Unless that is your wish then we leave you alone."

Torran snorted again and gave him a pointed look. Oberyn just shrugged at him. Septa Lemore was a beautiful woman with whom he desired and was in turn desired by him. They gave into their passions and she braved the shame and scorn of the Citadel before giving birth to Tyene. He hadn't seen her since she gave up their daughter to him but he heard that she was in the Free Cities. He hadn't the time to confirm that however.

"The Maester who taught me, and whose name need not be mentioned, heard of my...proclivities with my many bed-mates." He said darkly and Torran frowned slightly. Oberyn was glad that so far he remained content to just listen because he wasn't sure if he could stop to take questions right now. "He liked me well enough and saw fit to share one of his creations with me. He called it Killgrave's Persuasion after one of his former students who was good at talking. Its a dark purple, almost black liquid that when half a vial is drunk, your mind becomes loose, almost unhinged. Not like madness no, more like...leaving a door open which leaves you open to suggestion.

"There is no antidote for it, though you could use saltwater to help purge it from your body even if it is crude. Thankfully I know more ways of cleansing the body of poisons and they work just as well. Otherwise you would have to wait for it to leave your blood stream which can take days."

He took a sip of his juice and contemplated on whether or not to get something stronger before he continued.

"It can be turned into a powder and breathed in which strengthens the effects. This Maester gave out this secret recipe to a few cravens in Old Town and they used it to further their...own brand of darkness."

Oberyn remembered what they did to all their victims, vividly. And thankfully, the beasts were not people of import so no one cared when he dealt with them permanently. He hoped that all those that had been harmed would find peace if they already hadn't. Torran wrinkled his nose and Oberyn knew that he caught on to what he suggested. Oberyn would not tell him what happened exactly, but Torran wasn't the kind of person to want that knowledge in anyway shape or form unlike many who would have relished in such tales.

"I accepted the recipe but had no intention of using it, though I have studied it since, using rapists that were caught in Dorne while trying to flee from those that hunted them outside of our borders. What I did instead was brew my own poison, and used it to kill the Maester. Thankfully it was slow acting so when he did die, I was long gone and had removed those who had knowledge of his creation. I may have borrowed a few books from the Maester and the vast library on my way out and forgot to return them." He shrugged to try and lighten the mood and Torran scoffed.

"You stole books from the Citadel?" He said incredulously.

"They have a large library, its not as if anyone would notice that they were missing. Even those that belonged to the Maester." Oberyn waved a hand dismissively.

"If you say so," Torran added dryly before sighing. "Are you sure you got everyone who knew about this...creation?" Torran grimaced as if he swallowed something bitter. Oberyn understood well enough, to call this concoction anything less than foul was a difficult thing to do.

"Every last one of them," Oberyn's reply was firm and Torran nodded.

"And you've not used it on any else besides those rapists you mentioned, until you encountered Lord Baelish?" Thank the gods his daughter had married someone with a sharp mind.

"Yes and I haven't taught anyone the recipe, not even Tyene who is, without a doubt, my best student. The secret will die with me."

"Its a good thing you didn't teach Jon and I that. What with my cauldrons exploding and Jon's melting holes into the floor. Who knows what could have happened?"

Oberyn knew that Torran wasn't trying to joke for the sake of it, especially with something like this. The tension in the air was thick and he was trying to lessen it but like Oberyn, he failed to do so. Given the strained smile he gave Oberyn, Torran knew that as well.

"What did you do with Lord Baelish?"

Oberyn gave a loud sigh and closed his eyes. Using Killgrave's Persuasion on Petyr Baelish was something that he was not proud of and was a massive risk. Even with the knowledge he had now, he still felt guilty for having to resort to using it. Telling himself that they were at war and needed every piece of information they could get did not help either.

"I used it to convince him to tell me his darkest secrets," Oberyn gave Torran a grim look. "Keep in mind that it is not a truth serum so he may feel that what he told me was the truth of the matter as he knew it. However, if what he said is true, then he betrayed your Lord Father, for revenge against his brother Lord Brandon and for marrying Lady Catelyn Tully."

Torran's eyes widened in fury and his eyes shifted to amber. His nostrils flared and his lips curled. His teeth had become sharper and his nails became claws. The most Oberyn had seen from him before was just the eyes but he knew that Torran was capable of more.

"That fucking prick," Torran growled, the sound sending chills up Oberyn's spine. Oberyn was not so easily scared but the inhuman tenor in Torran's voice was disconcerting. "When I get my hands on him-"

"You won't," Oberyn kept calm even as furious eyes latched onto his. "He will stand trial before my brother who will carry out his sentence. You or Jon may swing the sword if Doran allows it, but my brother is the one who passes judgement since he is the one that rules Dorne. Do you understand?"

Torran's chest heaved as he tried to calm down.

"I said do you understand Torran?" Oberyn purposefully used his name to try and appeal to his goodsons reason.

Torran's eyes still glowed amber but everything else began to revert back to their natural state.

"I understand Prince Oberyn," The amber began to swirl back to grey and they narrowed at him.

"Go to your wife Torran," Oberyn said softly. Nymeria was the only one who could calm him now. Torran took in a shuddering breath.

"My prince," He bowed then stomped out of the tent. Oberyn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He would have patted himself on the back for sending Baelish ahead but he knew that he would catch hell for leaving out certain things. Mainly the things that pertained to his wife Sansa. If Torran was angry now, his rage would know no bounds when he found out about the plans Baelish made to make Sansa his bride with whom he referred to as Cat. Jon would join him, and both would eviscerate the former Master of Coin. Which wasn't as off putting as some would think.

The man was delusional but intelligent as well. Oberyn wasn't sure which part upset him more. What he did know was that his brother would take his word, even when trying to be fair because Doran knew that Oberyn had little cause to lie about this. Their word would hopefully help convince Lady Catelyn of Baelish's betrayal since Torran's or Jon's word would not be enough with their being bastards.

Oberyn sighed again, and sipped at his juice. The rest of Westeros always favored blood, whether they were spilling it or siring it...except when it came to their natural children. If blood was blood, then why ignore or mistreat those who had it but were born on the other side of the bed? What made a true born child a gift from the gods when surely all children were gifts from the gods?

Oberyn never gave much thought to fatherhood until his brother had sent word from the Fee Cities about his daughter Nymeria. She came to live with him, since her mother was forbidden from raising her by her betrothed at the time, and Oberyn needed to only look at his daughter to know that he loved her. He then set out to find all the children he may have had, starting in Old Town and working from there.

He was ridiculed for finding his daughters, for doing right by his children. Oberyn ignored whatever whispers came his way about it. They were not Dornish and only the Dornish truly understood their culture. Only they truly respected family and the loss of the last war. Them and the North, a land so large that the rest of the six kingdoms could fit in it and there would still be room left over. A land that had produced honorable people including his goodsons Jon and Torran.

Oberyn would do everything he could to make sure that they never felt anymore loss, or help them spread their vengeance should something happen. Even if it meant that he needed to resort to despicable tactics like using that vile concoction. He just prayed that the gods would forgive him, even if he wasn't as devout as others were or had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I almost didn't do Oberyn's POV because I wasn't sure if that whole story he gave would work. Anyone who reads Marvel or knows about and likes what their putting out in the live action format, there are three references to that, none of which are subtle. I only used them because I've had them on my mind for awhile now.
> 
> Did you guys like the explanation I gave for what happened with Baelish and how it was achieved? And I know there seems to be a lot of babies going around in this fic, but hey, if Walder Frey can have as many progeny as he wants in canon, then why the hell can't the people that are well liked have them in a fanfic?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a death in this chapter but its not done to anyone important.

Torran's mind was in turmoil from the conversation he had hours ago. On the one hand, he saw the logic in what Oberyn did. On the other hand - the one that was willing to reach for a sword - he wanted to grow wings and fly towards Dorne so he could kill Baelish when he got there. He blew out a frustrated breath and chastised himself for his childish thoughts.

"Here," His wife murmured to him, holding up a cup of wine. He took it from her but gave it a sniff.

"Sweetsleep." He said. It wasn't a question or an accusation.

"Only a drop, and you need it." Nymeria's reply was simple and honest. Torran drained the cup and handed it back to her. He could feel his hands go steady and his slow to its normal beat.

"Thank you," He murmured with a sigh. He did feel a little better now.

"So what do you plan to do?"

Such a simple question with a not so simple answer.

"I don't know," Torran admitted. "I'm still stuck on the fact that I could have gutted the fucker back in the capitol but didn't."

"You shouldn't focus on what could have been," His wife wrapped her arms around him and he did the same with her.

"Its all I have for now in regards to the living shit that is Petyr Baelish." He said flatly and his wife tried not to laugh but she snorted all the same. "And I have to wait to see justice done. The only solace I can take is that so far, my family is in good health."

"Then focus on that, and not the subjects that would drive you mad."

"Not as mad as Aerys Targaryen hopefully," He winced, he hadn't meant to say that out loud. His wife left his arms and almost scowled up at him.

"Are we to have this conversation again, my love?" Oh she was irritated with him now and he tried not to wince again. This had been one of the few arguments they had in their marriage. They were far enough into their camp that they could have this conversation somewhat openly so he didn't bother to use his fake accent.

"Not really," He murmured. "I rather think of Baelish naked as his name day then the Mad King and some dragon girl."

"That Dragon Girl is my aunt," His wife returned.

"By marriage."

"And blood, or did you forget that her namesake is my ancestor," His wife now openly scowled at him.

"And the cause of an entire rebellion which made people mistrust bastards even more," He scowled too but he was looking away from her.

"People always knew that bastards could be treacherous," His wife shot back. "Which is the fault of how they treat them. Why do you think there are no bastard rebellions in Dorne? Because we don't treat them like shit. And it is not fair to blame the entire rebellion on her, she didn't ask for them to fight."

"I know that," Torran growled still not looking at her. "But I do not want the daughter of the Mad King anywhere near my family and I see no reason why we need to get involved with her."

"The throne is hers."

"And she can have it, as long as she stays away from my family."

"You mean as long as she stays away from Jon," She accused him and this time he glared at her.

"Her presence will be poison to him," He hissed quietly at her. "He hides it well but Jon is still affected by the revelation of his parentage. She will break him, either by rejecting him or forcing him to her side. The former he will welcome, even if it pains him to be rejected by his father's remaining family. The other, he will refuse unless she threatens our family and he will go with her as his honor demands. And he will hate her for it."

He paused and palmed his face. He always hated having this conversation but never gave that much away. It needed to be done though if his wife was going to understand his position.

"If the dragon girl knows what is good for her, she will stay away. Or someone will remind her that like the Dornish, there are no Northern swords in that monstrosity that barely passes for a chair."

She eyed him for a moment before giving him a grudging nod.

"Very well," She muttered before there was a rustling sound from the front of their tent and they both turned. Podrick came in looking tense and there was a gash above his eye. Nymeria tensed and reached for a dagger but Torran put a hand on her shoulder because he could see over Podrick's.

"That may have been the smartest thing you have ever done, Snow." The voice that sneered at him was all to familiar and Torran smirked slightly.

"If it isn't the disgrace of house Dayne himself." He hissed as a hooded Gerold Dayne came into view. "Broken any mirrors with your reflection lately?" Podrick grimaced but gave him a questioning look and Dayne chuckled darkly.

"Unless you want your squire to die, Snow, you will keep your mouth shut. Or else my hand might slip." Podrick hissed but otherwise said nothing as Dayne dug his sword into his back. Torran's eyes narrowed at the action.

"Have you become so craven that you would hold the squire of a Dornish Prince at blade point?" Torran raised an eyebrow and Podrick stared at him in surprise. "I'm sorry that you had to find out like this Podrick, but I am Prince Torran Martell, brother to princess Sansa. We'll discuss this more after this is over."

"You think this will be over quickly," Dayne snapped moving closer to Podrick and holding his sword under his throat. "I am only just getting started."

"And all three of us will end it," Nymeria snarled and Torran caught the glint of Podrick's knife. He gave the young man a nod. Podrick stabbed Dayne in the thigh and twisted it like Torran had taught him. Dayne cried out and Nymeria through one of her daggers into his opened mouth, narrowly avoiding Podrick's ear. Torran moved forward and removed the sword from Dayne's hand.

When Podrick was well out of the way, Torran swung the sword he taken to finish off Gerold Dayne who was struggling in his place. Luckily, he cleaved through the neck bone in one stroke and watched as Dayne's head rolled away from his body. He sighed as looked at the stained tent wall before turning to his wife.

"He didn't likely come alone." She told him as she examined Podrick who winced slightly under her inspection.

"And since he's Dornish, he would know the tactics that are employed for looking for spies. We need to speak to your father." He moved to retrieve the head of Gerold Dayne before turning to Podrick. "I am truly sorry about this Podrick," He told his squire solemnly. "I never intended to see you placed in harms way. And I am sorry for lying to you but my sister was in danger and until she reaches Dorne, she still is. I have no right in asking this of you, but I implore you to keep silent about this until we can speak about it safely."

"Of course my lord er mentor," Podrick stumbled over his words and Torran smiled patiently.

"Let's get you checked out by the Maester and Prince Oberyn."

* * *

 

Nymeria watched her father angrily pace back and forth like a caged tiger. They had caught nearly ten individuals that were hiding near their camp, all of them were sworn knights to the cadet branch of house Dayne. They were still scouting the area for more.

Apart from the wounds he had, Podrick was going to be okay but he gave Torran this look that she didn't understand. Her husband apparently did because he nodded at the squire with a slight smile. She planned on asking Torran about that later.

"I will see them stripped of High Hermitage," Her father snapped to no one in particular. "It will be given to someone else, maybe a Dayne from the main branch or Trystane. I cannot give it to you or Torran because you both stand to inherit the Tor."

"What?!" Her husband squawked and she blinked in surprise. Her father stopped pacing and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You weren't supposed to know that but yes, when your aunt is ready to step down, the Tor will be yours. Speak with her if you wish, but we have more pressing matters to deal with."

Her husband nodded silently, shocked at what he just learned. Nymeria wasn't that surprised about it, Torran's aunt did care about him, but she was surprised that her father let that slip. He must have been really distracted to do so.

"This area is compromised," Her father continued firmly. "And now we must ride for Tarth." He added meaningfully.

"I swear by the old gods that if they hurt Sansa," Her husband muttered furiously, baring his teeth at nothing in particular.

"We'll kill them before they can try." Her father snarled. "I need to write to my brother and to Lord Selwyn Tarth. They must be informed of what has happened."

It wasn't a dismissal, but he wouldn't be distracted by anyone for sometime so she and Torran took their leave.

"How could she give us the Tor," Her husband said disbelievingly. "Why would she give us the Tor?"

"You're the closest blood relative she has," Nymeria pointed out. "And I am your wife or did you forget?" She added teasingly which Torran ignored.

"But what if she wants to get married? Or have children?"

"I think she would have done so by now." Nymeria said gently. "We'll speak about this with her when we see her next, but for now, we have plans to make."

Her husband grumbled but gave her a nod and they both set out to get ready.

* * *

 

"No, mother, I am not naming my son heir of the North," Robb rolled his eyes and almost growled from atop his horse as they traveled through the Causeway. He should have told Maester Luwin to not say anything in regards to his son being born if his mother sent a letter home. His mother had only asked after Allyria and the Maester had told her that she gave birth. Naturally, she turned to him to ask if he knew. He reluctantly confirmed the news and that he now had a son.

"I know that is what your tradition dictates and for the most part that is how the North works as well. But just as father honored you by building you a Sept, I must honor my wife in some way." He gave her a hard stare. "And Dornish tradition dictates that the first born will inherit. I won't force the rest of the North to follow this, but it is an easier way to deal with things. When Sara is of age, and if she wishes to marry, her husband will be prince consort and her eldest child will inherit. So on and so forth."

His mother said nothing at first before she gave a follow up question.

"Please tell me that you do not plan to legitimize those bastards?"

"I already have," Robb said calmly. There was no point in hiding it from her and he would rather she get used to it now since they were in the North.

"How could you?!" She shrieked at him.

"Keep your voice down," He chided her as several horses whinnied at the noise. "We are to be guest in the lands of Lord Reed and I will not have you embarrass me. Now calmly ask me that again."

His mothers glare only intensified.

"How could you legitimize that - that filth?!" She exclaimed softly and Robb ground his teeth together. "Especially after what they did at your wedding."

"Something that I wanted to do as well, but was restrained from doing so in case you forgot," Robb said flatly. "I didn't like the fact that some of them insulted our family in our home and wanted to join my brothers. And as for the why...they are the blood of my blood. They are of the North and South, just like me. And besides, I wasn't the only one to legitimize them, for they are princes twice over though neither will inherit much and haven't been told about their status here."

He gave her a bitter smile when he caught her pleased expression, "Try not to be too happy about that," He told her. "They will be told and if I could, I would build keeps for them to have but I know that they would not accept it."

"And they shouldn't," His mother said firmly. "It is not right-"

"No, what is not right, is for you to pray for Torran's death," Robb spat coldly and his mother turned pale. So pale that she started to look like a living corpse. "Yes I know about that, I've known about it for years. Just like I know that you thought Torran would be a tool to usurp my birth right. I had thought that you moved on from such thoughts but given your recent behavior, I can see that I was wrong."

Robb could remember his mother crying to his father about how the gods had chosen the wrong child when Jon got sick as a boy. She tearfully told his father that she wanted Torran to die and prayed to the Seven to see it done. His father did not speak to her for months and Robb had grown to resent his mother just a little. In the years that followed his mother had remained indifferent to Torran and their relationship had strengthened.

And then the wedding happened and whatever resentment his mother had boiled over in that moment. And for whatever reason, it transferred to Jon as well though she reserved it mostly for Torran.

"Whatever feelings you have of Lord Brandon's betrayal, I will leave for you to deal with, for I cannot tell you how to feel." He glared at her harshly before adding the next bit. "But you will no longer be permitted to take it out on Prince Torran. I cannot, and will not allow that to happen."

He flicked the reins in his hands to make his horse go faster, hopefully leaving his mother with enough to think on. He had been hard and unflinching in his treatment of her, but it needed to be done. Robb knew that deep down his mother would always be set in her ways, but she could be reasoned with in time or so he hoped. He also knew of her wish to keep things the same as before, but that was unrealistic. There was no going back to the way things were, not after all that happened.

He heard his guard follow right behind him, one no doubt holding the Stark banner aloft. It was mainly for his protection, as the Crannogmen were very protective of their lands and would not hesitate to use deadly force. They would recognize the banner and come speak with him before taking him to Howland Reed as opposed to outright killing him. The Neck was important to stop any Southron invasion and the locals were the best at stopping outsiders.

'Two hundred determined archers could hold the Neck against an army.' His father once told him and Robb had no doubt that there were at least half of that watching him and his Bannermen. Lord Howland would treat with him, not just because he was a king with whom his fealty was sworn, but also because he and his father were friends. Robb's father knew the worth of the Crannogmen and was forever indebted to Howland Reed when the man saved his life at the Tower of Joy.

As Robb continued to ride, he pondered as to why his father never named any of his children after the man. He also wondered about doing that very thing.

* * *

 

"Khaleesi," Jorah, her bear, rumbled as she nursed Rhaego. She gave him a cool stare while he continued. "I have been told that men claiming to be Ser Barristan Selmy and Prince Quentyn Martell of Sunspear are on their way to treat with you."

"Do you know why?" He had told her that he informed on her, that he had lied to her, but he had saved her life more than once and had given her great counsel. She was conflicted on keeping him before, but she needed him and his sword and counsel. She doubted that she would forgive him, however.

"I believe that they wish to form an alliance but they are keeping it quiet, lest people try to stop them or harm their families. You should meet with them."

"And why do you think I should listen to them?" Daenerys questioned him further. "Prince Quentyn I can understand, he is family, but why would I listen to a man who served the Usurper?"

"Because he also served your family," Jorah reminded her. "Loyally as well since the Kingsguard is for life unless you are made to leave, which he was."

It could be a trick, she wanted to say but instead she readjusted her clothing as her son was finished.

"I have my mind set on going to Westeros," She murmured as her son gurgled up at her, his almond shaped eyes bringing her joy and sorrow at the same time. She placed a finger in one of his tiny hands and he gripped at it. "Though there are those that insist that I join the Dosh Khaleen. And now you tell me that two people are on their way to speak with me."

Her Dragons chirped from their little makeshift den and Rhaego let out a happy cry. Daenerys smiled at her children.

"I have no need to become a crone and I will be going to Westeros, nothing will stop me." She added firmly, standing up and walking to her dragons. Aerion, Viserion and Drogon all looked her way. She placed Rhaego into the tiny bed they and the dragons chirped at him lovingly, even Drogon. Rhaego grabbed Aerion and cuddled him as if the dragon was a teddy bear or a toy and the dragon relaxed into the hold.

This was a controversial thing among her people who felt that the prophesied Stallion should not be with near any 'dangerous' creatures. They didn't understand that Rhaego was not only Dothraki, but he had the blood of the dragon, and he was born in fire like his brothers. They would never harm him because of that.

"Your counsel is something that I will have to think on," She said to Jorah, still watching her children. It was a clear dismissal and for all the things he was, Ser Jorah was not stupid.

"Of course Khaleesi," He murmured and she heard him leave her tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what all of you think, it really helps me out.


	16. Chapter 16

Sansa walked across the pier of Tarth, holding Ellaria's hand. A bald man with a grey beard came to greet them. He was dressed in the colors of House Tarth, and if that wasn't a big clue to his identity, the sapphire blue eyes were a giveaway.

"Princess Sansa," Lord Selwyn Tarth said gruffly with a short bow. "I hope your journey went well?"

"Yes my lord," Sansa nodded at him. "I thank you for receiving us. Lady Ashara would be here but she is over seeing the crew at the moment."

Lord Selwyn nodded, "Very well, I have this missive from your husband." He retrieved a scroll from his pocket and held it out to her. Brienne moved before she could and walked to her father. They both shared a blank look, though there was a bit of a smile in his eyes, as Brienne took the missive. Lord Tarth let his eyes drift down his daughters armor before looking at her sword, Evensun, and frowned. Brienne nodded to her father and came to Sansa's side. Sansa began to read it after she opened it, frowning as she did.

While she was glad that no one was hurt, she was upset that someone tried to hurt her family none the less. And they may try and hurt her as well if they were on the way here. She blew out a frustrated breath. Why couldn't people just leave her and her family alone? What had her family done to offend them so?

"Those absolute fools," Ellaria muttered from her side as she looked over Sansa's shoulder.

"Is everyone coming here?" Rebekah asked her hopefully.

"From the sounds of it, yes." Sansa gave Rebekah a smile and got a big one in return. Sansa could hardly blame Rebekah for her enthusiasm, for there was great news to be shared. Sansa turned to Lord Tarth, "If it pleases you my lord, I will share this news with Lady Ashara. I do hope that my husbands request to keep us here until he arrives has not offended you or put you off?"

"I would be more than happy to house all those that come here under the banner of peace." He gave her an almost non-existent smile. If Sansa had faith in her ability to judge people, she would have considered it genuine.

"Then you have my thanks, my lord." Sansa replied with a smile she usually reserved for court. "If you have other duties to attend to my lord, I will not keep you. Lady Brienne may show us the way if that is alright with you my lord?"

Lord Selwyn pursed his lips but his eyes shined with something resembling approval.

"That is acceptable, Princess." He gave her another bow before taking his leave.

"My father has always been gruff princess," Lady Brienne told her stiffly after he left. "I hope that he did not offend you."

"No offense was taken Brienne." Sansa replied quietly. "And I doubt that any offense was meant to be given."

Brienne just nodded her head.

"We need to tell Ashara what has happened and get her input."

"Oh I already know her input," Ellaria said. "She'll agree with me and say good riddance to Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage. Don't believe me, my love?" She asked Sansa who frowned at her then shook her head.

"I just don't think Ashara would appreciate you spoiling her chance to say it herself."

Ellaria laughed quietly then gave Sansa a kiss on the lips. Sansa puckered her own in response even if the kiss was brief. That was the most intimate they had been lately and Sansa couldn't find it in herself to be scandalized. Not even when Ellaria gave her a look of want that was also filled with promise.

"I dare say that you will be right, my love."

* * *

 

"I am afraid that retrieving her now would be impractical lord Tywin," Renly heard Varys titter from his left at Tommen's words and he tried very hard not to laugh at the look on Tywin Lannister's face. It was a sight to behold at seeing an old lion be told that he couldn't get his way. "Until my uncle, Ser Jaime gets here, the most we can do is visit her."

"And this is part of your plan to win back the trust of the people, your grace?" Tywin Lannister asked his king.

"My brother bled whatever trust we had with the smallfolk," Tommen replied with a shake of his head, Robert's crown jostled at the movement. Joffrey's crown had been lost, and Tommen said that he would wear his fathers crown until a new one could be made. "My mother did not help matters either. If a trial by combat will help restore faith, then it will be done. We nobles have looked down on those who work our fields and fill our cities with life for too long. And look where that got us my lord.

"My brother dead. My mother held hostage. And how many of us here nearly died that day?" He looked around to each member of the council. "Had it not been for the Bannermen of three powerful houses, I would not be king right now. And some of you would not be talking to me or each other. It is now the time for compromise and compassion, not war and conflict."

"Too much compromise could be considered a weakness, your grace," Lord Tywin said with narrowed eyes. Renly knew that the old lion was testing the mettle of his grandson so he bit his tongue but his nephew did not.

"And not enough compromise leads to tyranny," Tommen returned sharply. "I have inherited a crown in debt and was plagued with a war thanks to my father and brother. I will honor that debt as best as I can and there will be no more conflict with the Riverlands and the North. We cannot afford it."

Tywin Lannister looked both pleased and displeased at the same time. He clearly liked that his grandson was playing things smart but he did not like the idea of ceding the North or retreating from the Riverlands. Renly tried very hard not to smile now though it was becoming a bit painful to do so.

"And what of the last Targaryen, your grace?"

"What of her?" Tommen asked Varys who tittered his reply.

"Despite your fathers insistence, the girl still lives and so does her son."

"Is it base born," Tommen asks with a neutral expression. Renly wondered if he believed the truth about Joffrey given his choice of words.

"Well she was married at the time of conception," Varys shrugged and simpered. "Of course the Dothraki are considered heathens here so mayhaps it doesn't matter. Should we continue with your fathers desire to see her gone?"

"No," Tommen said firmly. "My family has done enough to hers. And we can't actually spend money on this when we need to pay back the Iron Bank."

"And should she come here seeking the throne, your grace?"

"Something can be arranged should that happen but not a moment before," Renly stared at his nephew in shock. What was he trying to say? "Tell me, has anyone heard from Petyr Baelish?" His nephew added before anyone could speak on what he just said previously. Renly supposed that since he was taking these issues seriously, he should give his nephew some credit. He was already doing a much better job than Robert or Joffrey ever did, all while being younger than them.

"My little birds sing no songs about him being in the Vale," Varys replied, eyeing Tommen curiously. "His majordomo has only received small letters, mostly asking how his business is doing."

"We have taxed that business have we not?"

"We have taxed all business in the capitol your grace," Tyrion added, who was also eyeing Tommen. "But that particular establishment the most. The majordomo has pulled in a lot of gold recently, most of which goes to the crown."

"I've written to lord Tyrell and he is willing to loan some money to us, as long as the betrothal between our houses remains intact." His nephew replied. "That should help us until we can come up with a better plan."

"Should the gods favor your mother, what do you plan to do with her, your grace?" Tywin Lannister spoke again. Renly was actually wondering that as well so he raised his eyebrows.

"Should the gods favor her, she will be sent to Casterly Rock," Renly nodded approvingly at this. As much as she loved her children, Cersei was a vicious bitch who thought herself to be above everyone else. She probably still did, even with the situation she was in. "I had considered sending her off to Old Town to become a Septa but that would do more harm than good."

Tyrion snorted into his wine from beside him and Renly couldn't help but chuckle, picturing Cersei in a Septa's robes.

"And what of Ser Jamie?" Renly asked pointedly. "What is to become of him your grace?"

"He will be released from the Kingsguard," Tommen murmured. "And he will be sent away as well, but not to the rock. He and my mother cannot be near each other. I just don't where to send him. I have an idea, but I am open to suggestions."

"Storms End will be open to you your grace," Renly didn't want any Lannister in his lands but he agreed that Jamie and Cersei should be separated and out of the Capitol. It was already scandalous as it was they didn't need to make it more so by letting them live together. If Renly had to take one of those blonde haired shits into his home to help his nephew then so be it. Although...

"I'm sure that Lord Stannis would be willing to house Ser Jamie at Dragonstone."

Stannis may have had the personality of a lobster, and they may have not been close, but Renly knew his brother to be a good man, if a bit harsh. He would treat Ser Jamie well enough.

"Thank you, lord Renly," Tommen nodded at him. "Those are good suggestions, but I've considered sending him to Dorne. To watch over Myrcella at the very least. Mayhaps my uncle could marry the Princess Arianne though I doubt that would come to pass."

Renly saw the good and the bad with a plan like this. The Dornish would house Ser Jaime and treat him well but they would never be friends. Marrying Myrcella was one thing, but to break bread with the son of Tywin Lannister was another thing. However, the Dornish borders were well protected so if the old lion decided to pull something, he would be in for a surprise.

"That would be interesting your grace," Tyrion offered hesitantly. "But I think it would be better to keep your uncle in places that you actually have allegiance from. Dragonstone would be best for the distance."

"Then you will go with him," Tommen nodded and Tyrion stared in surprise. "I want you to travel to Braavos and speak to those at the Iron Bank in your position as my liaison. Lord Stannis will provide a ship for you to sail there." A thought seemed to occur to him. "Take Ser Jaime with you, for more protection. Time away from Westeros will do him good."

It would do a lot of people good, Renly thought to himself. Renly never really understood why Robert kept Jaime Lannister around. No one called for the knights head because really, who could say that Aerys Targaryen should have remained as king? Even the loyalists didn't like him and wanted Rhaegar Targaryen on the throne. No, Jaime Lannister had done the realms a service, but he should have been sent home to Casterly Rock at the very least but he wasn't. If Robert wanted to know what happened to the Mad King then he only needed Ser Jaime to tell it once and send him away. Of course, given how Robert always drank freely it wouldn't have surprised Renly if he forgot about after every time he was told.

"And what exactly should I tell the Iron Bank," Tyrion inquired.

"Tell them that we will start paying them back but we only in small increments. We cannot pay them back all at once but we can pay them all the same."

Tyrion nodded his head.

"Has anyone told you of any mishaps in the Stormlands lord Renly?"

"Not entirely your grace," Renly shrugged. "A dispute between two houses has been on going but it will be handled soon enough."

"What is the dispute about?"

"House Swygert seeks restitution from houses Martell and Buckler for the death of Ser Simon Swygert. They wish to house some children from the two aforementioned families. I denied the request before the others did as well."

"Why?" Renly turned to the cool stare of Tywin Lannister.

"Because Simon Swygert tried to rape a girl in her own home. Irrespective of her birth, she is still a human being. I do not tolerate rape nor do I condone it by letting the culprit go free, not even if I married the daughter of his overlord." Renly almost smirked as the old man gave him a withering glare but he refrained. Almost all of the others shifted just a little at the small mention of the Mountain. Tommen looked on impassively. "I have already told the Swygert's this and should they continue to push, I will remind them that I am their lord and they follow my command."

"Very well Lord Renly, should you need assistance or need to take leave of your position to dole out justice, then you have my blessing."

"Thank you your grace," Renly nodded at Tommen.

"I want you all to come to me if any word of Petyr Baelish is heard, for he must be found. He has helped plunge the crown into unnecessary debt and he must answer for that. Any other business can be sent my way but for now, this meeting is adjourned."

Everyone started to take their leave but Renly noticed that the two Lannister's stayed behind. He noticed that Tyrion seemed put but Tywin Lannister was an off putting person, if only because of his cold demeanor. Tyrion likely didn't want to be stuck with his father right now but neither did Renly. So he took his leave and closed the door behind him, just as Tywin Lannister laid into his son. Renly felt sorry for the dwarf but there was very little that he could do to help.

* * *

 

The Stormlands are cruel, Torran thought to himself. They would have been to Tarth sooner than intended but they had to take cover more often because of random Storms. This had always been the way it was in the Storm Lands as winter approached. In truth they could have gotten to Kings Landing within two weeks from leaving the Tor if they hadn't stopped that often but Oberyn did want to seem to eager. Conversely, going back would be just as easy if not for the weather despite the fact that only four of them traveled here. The rest had been sent on to the marches so they could head home.

"We are here," Oberyn said from in front of him as he stared over a cliff side. Torran rode up beside him and looked out as well. "Beautiful, is it not?"

Oh yes it is, Torran thought to himself as he looked over Tarth. Even with only seeing part of it, Torran marveled at how spectacular the island looked from here. Despite its beauty though, it came second to the woman who rode next to him.

"Are we just going to stare at it all day?" She raised her eyebrows at him as Podrick joined them.

"I could stare at you all day if you like?" Torran drawled and got an eye roll in return.

"We are already married and in love, there is no need for courtly talk." Nymeria said then quipped, "You should save it for the next person that tries to join our bed, however."

"If Rebekah is with child I won't be taking anymore lovers," He told her honestly. "At least until you two twist my arm to do so." He added when she gave him a dry look. "Shall we ride down to that pier?" Torran jerked his head to their potential destination.

"We shall," Oberyn nodded to Podrick and the younger man rode down a path that lead to the shore.

* * *

 

He wondered if his great grandfather, the Braavosi sellsword, envisioned this for his descendants. Chained, beaten when speaking a word out of turn, and given gruel that wasn't filling at all but it kept him nourished all the same. Petyr didn't understand how it happened, one minute he was speaking with a Dornish Prince and the next he was on a ship sailing for Dorne.

He was told that he would be facing Dornish justice for his hand in the deaths of Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. How could they have known? Petyr told no one of his plans as he kept them to himself. It was the best option of keeping a secret, the second best being that you tell someone else but no one held his trust. Not that trust could help you in the game all that much but it was nice to have.

He briefly thought of calling out to the guard at the door but thought better of it. Instead he thought about how to work this to his advantage. He couldn't think of anything that may help him but he didn't get as far in life as he did by being stupid. He was able to get rid of two powerful lords by being an expert in the game. Jon Arryn was as honorable as any man could be but time and his wife were against him. Petyr manipulated both well enough. Ned Stark's own honor was against him. Having him arrested and killed was something that brought as much joy to his heart as Catelyn Tully did.

He sighed to himself. Brandon Stark never loved Catelyn, his bastard son was living proof of that. When he died Petyr would have tried once more to gain Catelyn's hand in marriage. Then the honorable Ned Stark came and completely ruined it by taking her to wife. Petyr, as much as it pained him, would not have Catelyn as his wife. She was fiercely loyal to her family and wouldn't consider getting married again. Her daughter on the other hand, well, she was Cat reborn despite her northern roots.

Petyr didn't care this way or that about blood or the roots that someone had but the Stark's were nothing but thorns in his side. He could make an exception with them. He reminded himself that he would appeal to the gouty prince that awaited him in Dorne and get rid of Oberyn Martell as soon as possible. No one of import would miss him much.

No, this not what my ancestor, Baelish the sellsword would have wanted for his descendants, He thought with a grimace as the boat rocked and tipped over the bucket he had relieved himself in. As his shit and piss spread across the floor, he promised himself that he would come out on top, no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? I know that Tommen seems out of character, but he is a proper Baratheon in this story, so he is different from canon. I actually did consider sending Jaime to Dorne from the jump as it seems like a fun thing to write but I decided against it. He will go there though, just not anytime soon.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a death in this chapter, three actually. One deserved it the others...I had thought about doing but only recently committed to them. Oh and some mentioned sexiness in the beginning but nothing shown.

Sansa blushed heavily as she ate her breakfast. Apparently, she, Oberyn and Ellaria had not been as quiet as she had hoped last night. Oberyn and Ellaria looked like they didn't care and they probably didn't. Torran had given her a blank look, but because they really weren't being watched, he broke character and waggled his eyebrows at her. She knew that he was teasing her and that it could have been, much, much worse. He could have asked her how it was, and gods that would have been embarrassing!

As it was, Sansa just continued to eat her eggs, still blushing. She tried not to think about last night, about how soft Ellaria's skin was, how her tongue felt against her breast and sex. Or how Oberyn's calloused made her skin turn to goose flesh.

Her thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Lady Ashara walking in to join them.

"Morning all," She said and sat primly in the first available chair. She picked at some fruit and some bread, looking over the assembled group as they murmured their replies. She gave Sansa a knowing smile before raising an eyebrow at Oberyn and Ellaria.

"You two couldn't wait till Dorne, could you?" She grinned.

Sansa palmed her face as her husband and now lover chuckled. She could feel, more than see, her brother's grin even if she guessed that it was a small one. Her brother wasn't exactly quiet himself last night after he heard the news of his impending fatherhood and celebrated with the women in his life, but Sansa knew that he had no shame in regards to sex. Teasing him about it would have been useless.

"We didn't go that far," Oberyn ran a hand along her face and made her look at him. "My wife is still young yet." He gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead and she sighed. She was happy that both he and Ellaria didn't pressure her to do more than she was willing. Had she been married to anybody else, they may have not been as patient or kind. Sansa hadn't planned on doing anything with them so soon into their relationship but with the...sexual energy that they were giving off, she couldn't help herself. She wasn't yet ready for more but she had to admit that what she did experience was extremely pleasant.

"Where are your children, Ashara?" Her husband turned to his friend.

"Exploring the grounds, I told them they could see it before we leave later today." Ashara smiled as she glanced around. "No sworn protectors this morning?"

"Lady Brienne is speaking with her father, and Ser Daemon is still sleeping," Oberyn answered. "The squire that came with us is also sleeping. Both boys were completely tuckered out last night."

"For different reasons I'm sure," Ashara said dryly.

"Of course, of course."

Sansa couldn't help but smile at the banter before she continued to eat.

* * *

 

Robb looked over Meera Reed with a critical eye. He had seen her fight and agreed with lord Howland's assessment that she was very good. She had pledged herself to him and asked to be a member of his guard. He couldn't exactly say no, seeing how he already had one woman who had already volunteered and Meera Reed was brilliant with a trident.

"If it is what you truly wish," Robb murmured.

"It is your grace. I swear it by earth and water. By bronze and iron. And by ice and fire, my trident is yours to command." Meera Reed said firmly from her knelt position.

That's a new one, Robb thought with a slightly raised eyebrow. The Crannogmen were northern as they could get, but even they had their own strange customs. Still, Robb didn't see a problem with this.

"Then rise Meera of house Reed, and be welcomed as a member of the Winterguard." He gestured for her to stand and looked over to Ser Brynden. He walked over to Robb and handed him a grey arm band. "May this band be a symbol of your commitment to upholding the safety of the North and those that live in it."

Robb slipped the band up her arm and gripped her shoulder, "Welcome to the Winterguard."

Ser Brynden, Dacey, Ser Perwyn, Smalljon, and the rest of the guard greeted her warmly. The Crannogmen only offered her solemn nods, none more so than her brother and father, but Robb could see a small amount of pride shining in their eyes.

"She's bloody brilliant," Ser Brynden had come up to him the next morning as they rode further north and past Crannogmen lands. "Mind you a trident is mostly used for fishing but its a spear all the same. She might give your good brother a run for his coin."

Robb wouldn't actually mind seeing that. Not because he hated Oberyn, but because a little competition never hurt anyone.

"I may send her with Dacey just to make that happen."

"Won't that upset her brother who seemed to think that she'd be married as soon as she reached Winterfell," Robb eyed his uncle who just shrugged. "The boy seemed insistent." He said skeptically.

"The Crannogmen act differently uncle," Robb said cryptically. He had some inkling that maybe Jojen Reed was gifted with Greensight or something of the like given his behavior. But he wasn't going to explain that to someone who grew up in the south. "He probably thinks that marriage will do his sister good. Neither he nor his father pushed for any sort of arrangement so that says something."

"Aye, it says that they're actually considerate of the feelings their women have."

"You're not fond of marriage, are you uncle?"

"Marriage is not the problem your grace," Ser Brynden began. "Betrothal for the sake of alliance is what I have a problem with. Yes, the Tully family and name have survived on the practice since the conqueror saw fit to make use Lords Paramount of the Trident and overlords of the Riverlands. It has been said that many houses won wars with steel and blood but we Tully's won them with marriage.

"Why after the war of the Ninepenny Kings my darling brother felt the need to arrange a marriage for me," Robb rolled his eyes along with his uncle. "And this was not long after people started calling me Ser Brynden but I wasn't in the mood to be told whom I must marry after killing all those men. She was beautiful yes, and from a powerful family but I wasn't interested. If I had married her though, we would have won the war more swiftly since we would have had the better navy through my marriage. Don't mention that to him your grace, Hoster would take it as an apology and I'd never hear the end of it."

"Of course Ser Brynden," Robb chuckled. "Is that right around the time that you two stopped speaking?"

"Aye, stubborn I was," Brynden muttered then added loudly, "But I was adamant, I would not be married. The arguments your grandfather and I had were legendary and I am surprised that no songs were made about them. He had called me the black goat of the Tully herd until I pointed to our banners at the precious Tully trout. That's how I got my personal sigil of the very menacing black trout." He finished with an eye roll.

"Could be worse uncle, the Tully's could've had minnows or wheat. Gods know that the Riverlands have plenty of that."

They both shared a laugh before Robb felt his uncle grab him roughly and pulled him down. Robb saw an arrow fly right by him.

"Protect the king!" Robb heard his uncle roar while he quickly dismounted his horse. Robb could hear dogs barking and men shouting. Robb grabbed Ice from its sheath. This was a battle ready sword meant for fighting on the ground instead of horse back and Robb had gotten good at wielding it despite its size.

"I can protect myself! Protect my mother!" Robb shouted back just as a dog rushed towards him. He swung his sword when it leapt into the air and the blade sliced right through it. He had to jump out of the way of two more and engaged a screaming sword wielder. He had idly heard a scream from behind him but he didn't have time to focus on it.

He lacks discipline, Robb thought as he easily evaded several swings before going in for the kill. Robb gutted the man in front of him before kicking him off of his blade. They're not much younger than me, Robb thought with a bit of sadness as he continued to fight the opposing force. Despite them being boys they seemed adamant on wanting to kill him. And Robb recognized a few of them from when he traveled with his father to meet various lords in the North.

They were the children of those sworn to house Bolton.

"Roose Bolton!" Robb yelled as he killed another person. "Come out and face me craven!" He saw Lord Bolton in the back of this small opposition, just standing there, watching him. Robb had to bring up his sword when another arrow came his way. It was shot out of the air by another one from behind him. And another arrow was fired to take out the archer in front of him.

"Go your grace, I will cover you!" Meera Reed shouted from behind him. Robb didn't need to be told twice and took off.

"Fuck sake," Robb heard his uncle curse from behind him. "Wait for me your grace!"

Robb ran as fast as he could, enemies falling before him thanks to the arrows provided by Meera. Roose Bolton still stood there watching as Robb ran. His stare was cold and unblinking and Robb stopped twenty paces away from him.

"Any last words, Lord Bolton?" Robb demanded. "For the betrayals you have committed?"

"Who said _I_ would have any last words, your grace?" Roose Bolton only raised his voice just a little as he retrieved two knives, flaying knives. He twirled them in his hands for a moment.

"You think that you're going to flay me?" Robb raised his sword with disgust watching for any trap and being mindful of those in the area.

"Flaying is a Bolton tradition for our enemies. The Lannister's swindle their enemies in the West. The Storm Lords hammered them in the South and you Stark's used your Valyrian steel to cut off their heads. In company such as that, are we Bolton's so indelicate?"

With a speed that none would have guessed he had, Roose Bolton charged. Robb swung a little to high and missed. Bolton cut Robb in the shoulder because of it. Robb snarled and took a defensive position and both men circled each other. Bolton would jerk forward like he would strike but Robb knew that they were just tricks except for the last time it was done.

Robb blocked several strikes and punched Bolton in the face. Roose barely grunted as blood trickled from his nose. Robb spun on his heel and swung his sword down from on high. Roose Bolton caught the strike but grunted when he felt an arrow enter his back followed by another. Robb removed one of the knives in Roose's hands and cut the wrist of the other, making him drop the other knife.

Robb kicked the back of Bolton's knee to make him kneel before yanking out the arrows, knowing it would hurt. He stabbed Ice into the ground and looked around. Meera Reed was shooting any that still fought with her bow and some of the opposition began to flee. His uncle gave him a solemn stare and a nod before order some men to get the cowards that ran. None of his men were dead, and maybe a few were injured but Robb was glad it was only that. He then looked down at Roose Bolton.

"I gave you orders to hold the East with the Karstark's that remained behind but you decided differently," Robb said softly before he held the blade in his hand at Roose's throat. The Lord of the Dreadfort clawed at Robb's hand, trying to get the knife away. Robb remained firm. "I know our families were never bosom friends, but what your bastard tired to do to my home, to my brother...you brought this on yourself. And now," Robb slowly dragged the knife across Lord Bolton's neck. "Your line is ended."

Roose Bolton gurgled something out before falling forward and remaining still. Robb grabbed Ice and stabbed the man in the back of the neck just to be sure.

"Meera," He called out and she looked at him after she loosed another arrow.

"Yes your grace?"

"Thank you for the assistance,"

"Just doing my duty, your grace."

"You have my thanks all the same," Robb said firmly then frowned. "Where is my mother," He asked.

"Your grace," Ser Perwyn said nervously and he looked close to tears. "You may want to see this." He gestured towards where his mother was before all of this started. Robb ran to where he pointed and saw his mother being cradled by Olyvar Frey only she wasn't moving.

"Mother?" He said with shock and Olyvar looked up, face wet with tears.

"I tried to save her your grace," The boy sobbed. "One of the dogs broke through our ranks. I threw a dagger at it but it startled your mother's horse and she fell. Sh-she broke her neck when she hit the ground. I heard it snap." The boy seemed scared of him but Robb just stared at his mother in horror.

Oh gods what if, Robb thought as he fell to his knees, what if one of those dogs was the ones I didn't kill? Robb started crying himself as soon as the thought came to him. He felt arms encircle him.

"It'll be alright lad," His uncle said with a catch in his throat. Even with all that happened, Robb still loved his mother and he knew that his uncle did as well. Neither wanted her to die. "It'll be alright."

* * *

 

Jorah looked over to his Queen and fought back a sad smile. He had hurt her and it hurt her now that she was leaving Vaes Dothrak. It held many great memories for her but also terrible ones. Having Red Priest assassins come for her children was also another factor.

The worshipers of the Lord of Light had used much blood and shadow magic to kill his Queen but they had failed, thanks to many loyal Dothraki. When the worshipers came themselves, and used fire magic to cause harm in the Dothraki Sea, the plans that were made for them to leave were put to action more quickly. Especially when a red woman had taken many Dothraki with her when she was shot with arrows and exploded where she stood.

Jorah also thought of the omens given to them by the Dosh Khaleen. Jorah wasn't a pious man but he did believe in his Queen and given what he had seen, he would listen to the advice of those that hold to higher powers. They were told that the sun and spear, the wolf, the feathered wolf, the winged wolf, and the fish would be their friends. The rose and the stag and the falcon would be subservient. The Lion and the Kraken would fall as would the ice wall.

Of course, all of that Jorah translated for himself as there weren't many words that matched those in Dothraki. The Dosh Khaleen also drew pictures so that helped as well. His Queen had said nothing to them but thanks and only spat bitterly about needing the help of wolves to him later on. He had told her the truth of what happened during the Rebellion and while she refused to believe him at first, she said she would wait to hear from Ser Barristan first before passing any judgement.

That was fair he thought. He had hurt her and lost her trust but she was willing to put up with him. She would even listen to him, just a little.

He pondered the words given to them. Of the supposed allied forces, only the Martell's made sense. The wolves...Ned Stark had fought hard for justice and would not go against his friend's only true born children. But he was dead, a fact that brought him no joy or relief, and his son had been declared a king of the North with support from the Riverlands. He took no personal sigil as far as Jorah knew...maybe the bastards that had lived in Winterfell? They were in Dorne last he heard from Varys and maybe they were the other parts of the puzzle.

The Rose, Stag and Falcon made more sense. The Tyrell's were Targaryen loyalists through and through. The young Baratheon King may not want another war, and they had dragons that could fly up to the Eryie when they were bigger. They would all bow in the end.

The last part, Jorah sighed to himself. The Lannister's destruction was long over due, same with the Ironborn. The ice wall? Jorah knew that if that were true, his father would be in danger. And as much as Jorah knew that his father disliked him, Jorah still cared about his father. He still cared about his people the Northmen and his family, even though he shamed them all when he broke the law, when he _needed_ to break the law.

He was sure that his father had given Longclaw to a worthy heir, or had given it to Lord Stark and it was now in the family that many looked to for protection in the North. Jorah didn't care either way, he wasn't fit to wield it anymore and only hoped that who ever had it now, used it wisely. After all, what was Valyrian steel worth compared to regained honor, redemption, or approval from one's people and family?

Jorah hoped that he would one day find out, but for now, as he looked back to his Queen, he would content himself with protecting her, as they traveled to meet those that sought them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I got sick and my plans went out the window during recovery. Now for the death of Catelyn, I wasn't actually going to do it at first, I wanted to do more with her but my mind said no and then this happened. Same with Melisandre though that one I don't feel to bad about. Same with Roose Bolton.
> 
> Let me know what you think and I will try to get a new chapter or story out soon.


	18. Chapter 18

Robb's hands shook as he nocked an arrow and placed the tip into the fire before him. Why did he decide to do this?

Because she is my mother, He thought as he aimed his bow skywards. He kept his eye on his target as it drifted down Fever River, which ran from Moat Cailin through the SaltSpear and into Blazewater Bay. He loosed his arrow, and blew out a breath when the arrow just missed his mother's boat. He nocked another arrow, put it to the flame and tried again. He missed once more, and his eyes started to water as he blew out a frustrated breath. For fuck sake Robb, get a hold of yourself, He thought viciously.

Before he could try again, his uncle stopped him.

"Let me try, your grace." Ser Brynden said softly. Robb handed him the bow and an arrow before stepping aside. It was better this way, Robb couldn't stop shaking and his uncle was an actual Tully. He was better suited for a Riverlands tradition. Ser Brynden took aim before looking up at the trees, watching for which way the wind blew. When he saw the direction it went, he adjusted his aim before taking his shot. They both watched the arrow sail through the air, then land inside the boat.

Robb sighed with some relief as his mothers boat caught fire.

"May the Seven grant her peace in death," His uncle murmured.

"And may the Old Gods reunite her with my father, their most devout follower." Robb added quietly, wiping a stray tear away. "I have to write to my brothers - and ask them to inform our sisters of this." He spat bitterly before turning to the rest of his guard. "Rest and eat hearty, we will ride for Winterfell soon enough. Olyvar," He called to his squire. The young man turned to him. "You are not to blame. You know that yes?"

His squire nodded slowly but Robb could tell that Olyvar still blamed himself. His brother Perwyn gave Robb a grateful smile before he grabbed Olyvar and lead him away.

"I need a drink," Robb muttered.

"Aye, you do, and so do I." His uncle patted him on the back. "Shall we head to the Inn?"

"I have to write those letters first," Robb shook his head. "And I have to make sure I get it right. I can't leave anything out and I am, once again, leaving my brothers to look after our sisters. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Unfortunately, that's how life works your grace."

* * *

 

"That prancing fool," Stannis hissed under his breath, eyes narrowed at the missive in front of him. "This is his doing."

"My lord?" Stannis looked up towards one of his more loyal Bannermen, Ser Davos Seaworth.

"We are to house Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock. Provided that he survives his sisters trial by combat." If he still worshiped any gods out there, he hoped that they would take both of those traitors to whatever hell existed. "We also must provide a ship for him, his brother, and his brother's hired killer so that they may sail to Braavos. Those last two are coming here regardless if he wins."

"Well given his skill, and given how much he was supposedly devoted to his sister, I do believe that he will be coming here." Stannis noted that his knight sounded neither pleased nor displeased with the prospect, just indifferent.

"I think so as well," Stannis gnashed his teeth together, reaching for his lemon water. It was bad enough that they had betrayed Robert's trust with their affair, and with the birth of their bastard son, but now he would most likely have to suffer not one but two Lannister's. What was the world coming too?

"And just who is this hired killer, my lord?"

"Some sellsword, who I have been told is a jumped up cutthroat but an efficient one." Stannis took a sip of his water. "I will be the judge of that." He paused. "I want you to go with them, Ser Davos."

"My lord?" His knight frowned at him.

"You are the only one outside of my immediate family that I can trust with this. I want you to go with them, watch them, and tell me what you see. I want to know as much as possible."

"I'm afraid that I'm not much of a spy-"

"No, but you know how to be discreet. How to not get caught by other people." Stannis cut him off. He added that last part when the knight frowned at him. Despite all the lessons he shared with his children, Davos was still having trouble with his vocabulary. "It is one of the qualities that I admire about you."

"Thank you my lord, I'm glad to hear it."

"Some high borne fools still call you the Onion Knight, thinking that you would be insulted," Stannis continued after another sip of water. "Yet you take the Onion for your sigil. Sew it to your coat. Fly your Onion banners over your lands."

"My sons have asked me to change it," Davos shook his head in exasperation. "Three Merman holding tridents or some nonsense like that. No, my black ship with the onion and grey banners are enough. Same with my words."

"And what are your words, Ser Davos?"

"A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. You said those words to me sometime ago." Davos replied and Stannis remembered the conversation in question. He had asked Ser Davos why he felt the need to carry the bones form his missing joints around. 

"I did."

"I recite those words for my house so that my sons and gods willing, their children, never forget where our family started from. In truth my lord, I understand why all the other lords look down on me."

"Do you?" Stannis raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"My father was a crabber."

"And?"

"Sons of lords don't like to break bread with sons of crabbers, our hands stink." Davos said bluntly. "It doesn't help that I used to smuggle goods to them though they would deny it."

"And where were these lords when Storms End starved?" Stannis narrowed his eyes. "Where were they when you sailed with your little boat to bring us food?"

"Many fought bravely for your brother, many fought for the mad king." Davos shrugged at him.

"You defend these men, who have insulted you behind your back. Insulted your wife and children as well."

"Some are happy to do it to my face. My wife and my boys are strong enough to handle mere words, my lord." Davos rubbed the back of his neck with his one good hand. "I meant what I said when I do not wish for my family to forget where we came from. I already know that the older families will not. Maybe in time, they will not hold it against us as much as they do now, but for the time being, we must stay strong as we always have."

Stannis said nothing, instead he took another sip of his water.

"I will do this my lord," Davos nodded with determination after a moment. "I will go with these people to Braavos."

"That is all I ask," Stannis nodded then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He thought back to the letter his nephew had sent him, glad that an actual Baratheon was on the throne once more. The Iron Throne was theirs by right now, both through his grandmother Rhaelle and through the conquest of it. Being descended of house Baratheon of Valyria and having Orys as their ancestor was definitely worth mentioning lest people forgot.

He still remembered the portrait of the first Baratheon lord, hung in Storms End, with his bright blue eyes but with silver hair that marked his foreign heritage. It was through the last storm princess that the family had the dark black hair. And the seed was strong, something that many people stupidly overlooked with Joffrey Waters when he was born. He was not one of them, same with Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. He fled after the first was poisoned and he just shook his head at the injustice done to the second and his daughter Sansa.

He and Ned Stark would never be friends, not now or ever, but Stannis recognized the good man that was lost at the Sept of Baelor. One that knew that what was right came above everything else, and did his duty to Robert by recognizing Tommen as the rightful heir. That man made many mistakes, especially in regards to Ashara, but what's done was done and he did not deserve to be killed. And near a Sept no less.

No, Ned Stark was not his friend, but if he felt that it could help someone or anyone, he would mourn the loss of the Quiet Wolf.

"To you Lord Eddard," He raised his glass and downed the rest of it.

* * *

**First day, Twelfth month, 298 AL**

They had finally reached Dorne. Torran couldn't be more glad than now. He had been told that he would be a father and now his sisters were safe and away from that sty of a city. He looked over to the carriage that rode with them and smiled as he saw his sister laughing with Rebekah and Ellaria. It may take him sometime and patience, and he knew that she would not always be okay, but he promised himself to make or see her laugh as much as possible.

They hadn't stayed at the Tor for long but he was happy to see his aunt...mostly. He was still kind of miffed that she named him heir, especially since he couldn't actually carry on the Jordayne name, having taken the name Martell. His aunt merely smiled at him and said that it was for the best, as any other candidate either died or were ineligible to inherit.

"And this way I honor my sister and the House we are sworn too. It is the right thing to do." She had told him firmly and on one hand he understood but on the other, he was still a base borne man who never wanted any sort of keep or lands. He didn't say that to his aunt or wife, knowing that both of them would have spouted an exasperated lecture on how he was a good man regardless of his birth.

He could see the gates of Sunspear and there were several people standing there to greet them including his brother. He urged his horse to go a little faster and stopped when he was close enough to them. He beamed a smile at them and received hesitant ones in return or none at all.

Torran's smile faltered and he dismounted his horse before walking to Jon.

"Brother," He drew Jon into a hug before leaning away to look at him. "What is the matter?"

Jon just shook his head and pursed his lips. Torran narrowed his eyes but didn't ask again. Instead he gave Tyene a kiss on the cheek and she kissed his in turn. "Sister." He eyed the guards who remained stoic as ever before paying them no mind. Where was Arya? Surely she wouldn't be practicing right now with Sansa here?

"Brother," She said quietly. "You've gotten rid of the red in your hair. Nym told me that she was quite fond of it."

"Aye, she was," Small talk. That's what this was. It was a distraction from whatever was upsetting them. "Rebekah and little Alyssa as well. They're a little upset that I washed it out." The red wasn't completely gone but it would be soon enough. "In fact you'll get to meet her," He turned to see Ellaria walking towards them, holding the aforementioned child.

"You're pregnant," Torran blinked at the matter of fact tone that she used before turning to Tyene. His goodsister didn't bother to deny it and he noticed that she glowed with child. How did he miss that? No wonder Jon looked as he did, he thought Oberyn was going to kill him.

Oberyn nearly strung me up when he found out Rebekah was pregnant, Torran thought to himself. Oberyn remembered himself and instead congratulated everyone involved. But he did tell Torran that he would have to deal with Lord Buckler on his own.

"Yes," Tyene said just as the others joined them, chin raised slightly in defiance towards her father. Oberyn merely raised an eyebrow. "But that is not the news that must be shared."

"Princess Sansa," Jon said with a slight smile but he grimaced as well. Sansa didn't appear to notice and approached Jon to hug him. He hugged her back almost tightly.

"Congratulations on your baby," Sansa told Jon and Tyene after she pulled away. "You're not the only one expecting though." She looked over to Torran and Rebekah.

"I have a little wolf growing inside me too," She told Tyene, who smiled at her.

"Wonderful," She said, reaching for Jon's hand. At the reassuring squeeze, Torran spoke up again.

"You mentioned news that needed to be shared, sister."

"It might be best if we speak inside," Jon began.

"Is that where Arya is? Why is she not with you?" Sansa interrupted him, looking around for their sister.

"Yes, why is she not here? Did something happen?" Torran said sharply.

"She is with Gendry in her room," Tyene murmured.

"Really?" Torran said with a raised eyebrow. That was strange to him, for he could distinctly remember her being distraught about not bringing Sansa with her when she escaped. Not that it was her fault to begin with. "And she couldn't come out to greet our sister because?"

Silence met his question before Jon sighed and gave Sansa a sad look.

"Arya is neither harmed nor has she fallen ill," He began and a feeling of dread washes over Torran but he's not sure why. He steps closer to Sansa. "Instead, she grieves."

"Is it Robb?" Sansa asked hurriedly and Torran was right beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No he is alive. But I am sorry my lady, your mother is dead."

Sansa sucked in a sharp breath and a cry fell from her lips. Torran pulled her close to him and hugged her as her legs gave out. Of all the things that could of happened for Jon to act like this, Lady Catelyn being dead was not one of them. 

"No!" She shrieked and while his ears rang from the sound, he still held her. "There must be some mistake!"

"She is gone Sansa," Jon said softly, eyes shining with pity. "There was an attack by the Bolton's and your mother had died during it. Robb and your uncle Brynden gave her the rites of the Riverlands."

"No," Sansa moaned in despair and leaned further into him.

"I will take her to our rooms," Oberyn came up to them. Torran gently handed Sansa to him.

"Why?!" Sansa wailed to Oberyn who gently hummed to her as she sobbed. Ellaria followed them, holding a now fussy Alyssa.

"Please tell me that Robb killed those responsible," Torran felt cold and hot all at the same time and he really wanted to hit something. His sisters were now hurting. Again. And he couldn't do anything about it. He took a calming breath as Nymeria and Rebekah each put a hand on each of his arms. He was further calmed by Jon's reply.

"He is looking for any cravens that ran from the fight, but he did kill Roose Bolton." Jon said coldly. "Any lords that were sworn to that house must bend the knee and swear fealty. Or drop to their knees and lose their heads." Torran felt a nasty smile form on his face.

"Good."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This all happens on the same day as the last segment of the previous chapter.

Jon watched as Torran read the letter from Robb again. They and a bunch of others sat in Prince Doran's second solar, his first being in the Water Gardens. Ghost and Stone were in the corner, watching Torran as well.

"I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised that he named us Princes of the North," Torran muttered, throwing himself into a chair. "And I'm not surprised that he's sending people from his guard to come here."

"What for exactly?" Nymeria asked him.

"To help protect our sisters, or at the very least Sansa." Jon nodded in agreement with Torran's words. "And its not because he doesn't trust anyone here, or thinks that they are inefficient, but Sansa is his sister and a Princess of the North. He would be remiss to not at least offer some protection."

"Those were my thoughts as well," Doran said in agreement. "Though I am not entirely familiar with the two he is sending here, though I do know of the Maester and the member of the Night's Watch."

"Yes Samwell Tarly," Jon frowned. "I wasn't aware that Lord Tarly had more than one son. Though I suppose that's do to the North not having a strong relationship with the Reach."

"Samwell is Lord Tarly's eldest son and former heir," Doran said quietly though Jon caught a hint of steel in his tone. "Rumor has it that the boy was threatened by his father into taking the Black so his younger son could be heir."

"I see," Jon frowned even more. "Then I understand why he is coming here."

"How so?" His wife asked.

"In the North we believe that if you take an oath under duress or are forced to take one, it is not a real oath."

"If this Samwell was threatened with his life, the oath he made is null and void." Torran said gravely. "And Robb is sending him South with the Maester under the guise of needing a new one - or training to become one. I doubt that either of them will be going back."

"No I think not," Doran said thoughtfully. "If they stayed North then they may have been retaken by those from the wall. When they come south they will be named as deserters when they don't return. But when they come here we won't send them back - its too costly."

"Is it really?" Torran said incredulously, and Jon understood where he was coming from. House Martell and Dorne itself were hardly in need of funds and were on par with the Tyrell's when it came to coin. Maybe just a little bit more now that he thought about it.

"As far as the rest of Westeros is concerned, the Southern most and Northern most regions are the poorest ones. We all know differently of course, but why must we tell them that? Your brother is wise in this decision, though I don't know what he plans to do with the Wall."

"Probably take it back for house Stark." Torran shrugged. "That's what I would do."

"To what end?"

"The purpose of that wall was to keep the Others out, if they ever existed," Jon knew that Torran only added that last part out of habit. Given what both experienced recently, it wouldn't do to dismiss the things they heard as children as fiction. "It was a noble order, like becoming a Septon or Maester or Knight. Every second and third son of all the noble houses eagerly joined with those that wanted to go. Now? Everything from monsters and cravens looking to escape punishment go there."

"I distinctly remember you telling me that you wanted to join the Watch." Nymeria raised an eyebrow at Torran.

"Just as there has always been a Stark in Winterfell, there has also been a Stark at the Wall," Torran began. "Or at least, their presence has always been felt. The Wall would have gotten two Stark's if only in blood instead of name. Now with all of that in mind, I wasn't ignorant to who actually went there." He shrugged at the end of his explanation.

Jon knew all of that as well but at the time, The Wall was a very appealing option. Yes, they had been treated well by their lord father and their siblings but Lady Catelyn...Jon flinched. Now wasn't a good time to think poorly of her.

"Thinking about Lady Catelyn hmm?" Torran inquired with a dry look.

"How did you know?"

"Why else would you flinch?" Torran shot back before sighing. "That woman was an absolute bitch to you and I on her worst days, me especially. On her best days she was indifferent. But if there was one thing I respected about her, it was that she was devoted to the family. She may have done things the Southron way, which clashed with some Northern traditions, but no one could deny the love that she had for her family. She probably won't be missed by you and me, but she will be missed by her children."

Torran grabbed a glass of water and raised it. Jon did the same with his juice.

"To Father and his lady wife. May they be happy wherever they are now."

Both gave a salute and drank. There was a respectable silence as they both put their drinks down. Rebekah let out a squeak as Stone moved over to Torran and placed her head in his lap. Ghost walked to him and merely sat beside him.

"I know that you're not used to her, but Stone won't hurt you, I promise." Torran murmured to Rebekah as Stone licked at her hand soothingly. Rebekah smiled hesitantly before petting the dark grey direwolf's head. Stone rumbled happily in response. "She knows that you mean no harm and she knows that you carry my child. I'm sure that as you go further into your pregnancy, she will be at your side at all times. Ghost too." He jerked his head towards them. Ghost perked up slightly but made no noise. Jon scratched him behind his ear all the same.

"Tell me of those that are coming here with Samwell and Maester Aemon." Doran said after another moment of silence.

"Dacey of house Mormont is the eldest daughter of Lady Maege, and current heir to bear island." Jon said first. "She will probably give up her claim to her sister who already has two children. House Mormont has always been loyal to the Stark's since they were gifted Bear Island by a former Stark King who took it from the Iron Born."

"I don't who Meera Reed is personally, but she is the daughter of Lord Howland Reed, one of my Lord Father's best friends. House Reed has faithfully served the North and the Stark's since they were appointed to be protectors of the Neck. Neither she nor Dacey will cause trouble for you, my prince."

Jon was happy that he didn't mention the Tower of Joy when talking about Lord Reed. He wasn't sure that he could engage that topic of discussion now or ever. Thankfully, Doran spoke again.

"You speak of Lady Dacey with such fondness."

"She is an old friend," Jon said with a small smile. Dacey had visited Winterfell enough times that he and Torran had established a good relationship with her. She was one of the few people outside of the family that didn't care that they were bastards and sparred with them often. "And a loyal supporter of house Stark. Robb asking her to come here is a stroke of genius. I do wonder how she'll deal with not wearing mail when she gets here."

"She'll probably hate it," Torran rolled his fondly. "Dacey and all the women in Bear Island take to a man's mail and armor like most Southron ladies take to dresses and good silk."

"I hadn't realized that the North valued female warriors," Rebekah commented, not unkindly. "I thought they only did that here."

"Not everywhere in the North does that happen but women are acknowledged as warriors from time to time," Torran responded. "The Crannogmen expect everyone to pull their weight in defending the North from the South if necessary. That includes women and anyone strong enough to pull a bow string or wield a trident. Even the children sometimes spy on any incoming forces from the high trees."

"Bear Island used to be raided by Iron Born and Wildlings alike," Jon picked up the explanation. "The Iron Born stopped after King Rodrik won the island in a wrestling match and gifted it to his loyal Bannermen. The Wildlings still try but they are met with great resistance from the women who reside there while their husbands and sons go out to fish when they do."

Oberyn came into the solar then, Gendry at his heels. Jon started to stand and he noticed that Torran tried but Stone wouldn't let him. He grumbled at her to move but she huffed and remained.

"Peace," Oberyn murmured, sounding slightly agitated as he went to get himself a drink and Gendry shuffled into an open chair. Jon got a good look at his face for the first time in days.

"What happened to you?" He asked, sitting back down.

"I got this when Arya flung things around her room in random directions. I couldn't dodge fast enough." Gendry pointed to his split lip that had started to scab over. "And I got this when I tried calm her down. She was too angry and punched with all she had." He pointed to his bruised eye that seemed to have lost most of its swelling.

"She learnt that from me." He and Torran said at the same time. They both turned each other and narrowed their eyes. Thankfully, neither decided to get into a childish debate over it.

"What brings you two here?" Torran asked.

"Sansa is with Ellaria and your sister right now." Oberyn sighed through his nose. "Ellaria may leave to give them some alone time. Both of them need each other right now. I will support them as best as I can."

"So will I," Gendry said firmly. "Arya's my family now and so are you."

Torran raised his eyebrows at Gendry. He said nothing and sighed instead. Gendry looked over to him and noticed Rebekah.

"Oh, my apologies good lady, I did not see you."

"I'm not a lady," Rebekah replied with a small smile. "I am their paramour." She tilted her head at Torran and Nymeria.

"And mother of our child," Torran added.

"My apologies all the same," Gendry said respectfully. "My name is Gendry Waters."

"Rebekah Storm."

"Pleasure," Gendry gave Rebekah a small smile, which she returned.

"I hate to sound like an absolute prick, but is there any other bad news to be shared," Torran said after another moment of silence. "I would rather know now than later when it bites me in the arse."

Jon couldn't help but snort at his brothers words.

"To my knowledge, no." Doran said softly. "But your package from Alleras has arrived Oberyn. It awaits your attention."

Jon frowned when both Torran and Oberyn snapped their gazes to Doran. Oberyn just nodded at his brother. Torran's eyes flickered between amber and grey before they settled on grey. Torran than looked at him and mouthed the word later. Jon nodded back in understanding.

"I will see to it later," Oberyn murmured. "Now what else has your brother said?" They began to tell him from the beginning.

* * *

 

Torran watched the fire in front of him coldly. In it was one of the Bolton Banners that Robb had sent with his letters. He said they could do whatever they wanted with them. Pissing on them came to mind. Using them to wipe his arse had also drifted into his thoughts. He settled on burning them as it was easier. Jon told him that Ghost shredded the one he had without a second thought. Neither of them gave Arya or Sansa one so they just destroyed one for now and saved the other for Arya. Sansa would be grateful for that and so would their little sister.

What a horrible banner, He thought as he watched the flayed man tied to the cross burn. He knew that it was a symbol of ever lasting defiance against the Stark's after they were forced to bend the knee and give up their title as the Red Kings. Flaying had been outlawed and so had the first night. Didn't stop the Bolton's apparently, if Ramsay's account of his conception were true.

Torran hated him and the Dreadfort when his lord father had taken all the older boys to visit each of his Bannermen. Torran remembered wanting to punch that fucker's teeth in when he called him his brother. As if I would have been his brother, Torran snorted, glad that Theon had done away with the bastard even if it did cost him an eye.

Roose Bolton had been a skilled warrior and was loyal to a point. But he must have thought that Robb couldn't win his war and thought that Winterfell wouldn't be that difficult to take. How wrong he had been on both counts.

Torran sighed as he thought of Domeric Bolton, the only one he actually liked. He was kind and intelligent. Had hated his family's reputation and would have tried to change it. Domeric never cared that his brother had been a bastard, showing him kindness even, and some believe that it was this kindness that killed him. It was poison they said.

Torran didn't think that Ramsay had enough subtlety for that. He liked to get in people's faces and make them afraid if he could. And Domeric had done nothing to die so soon in his life, especially from poison. If he did die from poison.

"What a waste," Torran muttered as the Banners were fully engulfed. "But at least that is one less problem for Robb and his reign." He grabbed a shovel and tossed some wet sand onto the fire, snuffing it out. "May Roose and Ramsay join the Red Kings in whatever hell that exists. And may Domeric be at peace, he deserves that much."

Hoisting the shovel on to his shoulder, Torran began to walk back to Sunspear.

* * *

 

The guards told him that both Princes would see him in the morning. His trial would happen and he would be expected to explain himself. Petyr knew that they had nothing on him and he was sure that he would be released. He could sneak away with Sansa, the poor girl must be frightened of the Red Viper and his ways. Petyr would see her to safety, the only question was where?

The Vale was possible, but Lysa would expect him to marry her, something that he would do but not for long. Her madness was going to be the end of her and Petyr would have control of the Vale when she was gone. Getting there would be a problem, he had no contacts in Dorne, the closest ones he had were in the Storm Lands. None would come here without permission from Renly Baratheon who was probably looking for him along with others in the small council.

If he could just get word out, and reinforcements, he would be gone from Dorne and hand it to the Iron Throne completely. Something that no one had ever done before. He would just need to claim treason or say that the Dornish wanted Myrcella on the throne as she was the eldest child. That was how their backwards culture worked and the Dornish were mad enough to do something foolish like that. And it was a believable lie too.

"I just need to be strong," He said to himself quietly. "And then I will be the most powerful man in Westeros. I will no longer be mocked when this is over."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Petyr is a few fries short of a happy meal, huh? As always, let me know what you think.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of rape in the last POV but nothing is shown, just mentioned. You have been warned.

Doran eyed the pathetic looking man in front of him with cool indifference.

"Lord Baelish," He intoned quietly from his throne. "You seemed surprise to see me today. Were you not told that I would be here?" He already knew the answer was yes but it wouldn't hurt to play just for a little bit.

"Your brother had said that you were afflicted by some bad gout." Petyr Baelish said quietly from his knelt position. "I did not expect you to be walking in here."

"It comes and goes." That wasn't a complete lie, Doran did have to rest every now and then but he could walk all the same.

"I do not see your brother here."

"My brother likes to take his time, he does not have the same responsibilities that I do." That was true, Oberyn had his own matters to attend to but they could be considered small if one wished to compare them. Doran wasn't foolish enough to do so. "His mind set is much different than mine."

"Indeed," Baelish scoffed as the side doors opened and Oberyn walked through. He was followed by Jon and Torran.

Oberyn wore his normal yellow tunic. Jon wore a Red and Grey sleeveless tunic that had a white wolf head embroidered over his heart with matching grey trousers. Torran wore a Green and Grey sleeveless tunic with the same wolf embroidered on it with black trousers. Their faces were like stone but Doran could see the simmering rage beneath the surface. All three were very angry but Doran knew that they would behave themselves. Mostly.

He did have precautions in place should they be needed. Two guards stood by Petyr Baelish. Areo stood behind him, ready to spring at Torran should he move from his chair. There were archers behind the main door with blunted arrows that would fire on Areo's command if needed. There were more guards from the other side door to lend a hand to stop all three from harming the man in front of them. If they were quick enough at least.

Doran waited until Torran sat down in the chair beside him. Oberyn sat on his left and Jon sat on Oberyn's left.

"This is to be my jury?" Baelish spoke before anyone else could. He was not looking at Doran but at Torran. The hatred in the eyes of the kneeling lord could not match the rage that bled from Torran in that moment.

"Prince Doran is the only one that will pass judgement this day." Torran said with bared teeth. "Prince Oberyn, Prince Jon, and myself are only here to ask questions." He then added under his breath. "The nerve of this prick is astounding."

"And just how does a Northern bastard become a prince?" Baelish asked Torran a question. Torran just turned to him and raised his eyebrows, asking for permission. Doran did not grant it.

"Lord Baelish, refrain from speaking before you are required to," Doran said calmly. It was already a slightly bad start but he was determined to keep it on track. "Now, my brother tells me that you had a hand in the death of Lord Eddard Stark and that you had plans for his daughter, and my goodsister, Princess Sansa."

"I don't know where he could have gotten that idea." Petyr Baelish said with a blank face.

"Surely you remember the conversation that we had before I had you arrested," Oberyn asked the next question after raising his hand. "We were drinking some of the swill the Capitol likes to serve-"

"I remember that," Baelish said curtly, cutting into what Oberyn was saying. "I do not remember saying anything ridiculous like you have suggested. Even if I did, I was presumably drunk and whatever I may have said could not be used against me."

"But it is not just what you said that concerns me but what others have said as well," Doran was still calm as ever. "I hear things from the Capitol all the time. Some of those things I am not overly interested in but I do not dismiss. Some things I am interested in, but do not not eagerly lap up every chance I get."

The man in front of him didn't make a sound, just watched Doran. He was waiting for an opening.

"Some of the things that I heard about you were disturbing to say the least."

"I was merely a person who did his duty to the King and to the realms. I doubt that many could find faults with a man who gave them coin and flesh to warm their beds."

"And plunged the crown into debt twice over," Doran added flatly. "I will not speak on your practices in the brothel you used to own. Given its new owner and his practices, whatever hells you subjected some of the women too will never happen again."

"The only way to properly train any unruly horse is to break it," Baelish returned with an ugly smile. "Why should I not do that for the whores who needed to learn their place?"

"I do love the fact that you completely ignored the first half of the statement that was made," Jon spoke up without asking for permission."Have you no shame for what you have done?"

"You can't prove that I did anything, Prince Bastard."

Doran nodded at one of the guards who slapped Baelish in the back of the head. He grunted at the force of the blow and fell forward.

"While my nephew did speak out of turn, you are not permitted to speak to a prince in such a manner," Doran said sharply. "Remember that you are in Dorne Lord Baelish, we do not suffer fools here."

"And yet I see nothing but fools here. Do you think this mummers farce has any bearing on what happens to me? King Joffrey-"

"Is dead." Doran cut in coldly, watching Baelish falter. "Torn apart by the smallfolk for the many atrocities that he committed. His half brother King Tommen sits on the Throne and wants you to answer for what you have done."

"Then send me to him, he will see reason."

"I find that very unlikely," Doran returned. "Already the city itself has turned against you. Your ledgers have been looked over, your practices have been made public and there are those who claimed that you swindled money from them when you bought partial ownership of their brothels. I dare say that you won't even make it to the King."

A lot of the people in King's Landing did not care for the practices that were implemented in brothels, save for the pious. However, finding the one responsible for their increase in taxes, they now had another point to rally behind. Petyr Baelish was as good as dead if he went there. And judging from the look on his face, he realizes that now, Doran thought to himself.

Petyr Baelish had gone as white as a simple cloud. But like a cloud, his face began to darken and his expression became stormy.

"You cannot do this to me," The man hissed as the guards gripped his shoulders. "Do you know who I am?!"

"A jumped up little shit that thinks the world is owed to him?"

"Silence you Bastard heathen!" Baelish howled at Torran who could only chuckle at the struggling man in front of them. "I shouldn't be surprised that Brandon Stark's shame would find this amusing."

"The only thing that is shameful in this situation is that Lord Brandon Stark listened to Catelyn Tully and let you live."

"Don't you dare say her name!"

Doran was fascinated at the sight before him. He was told that Baelish was slimy, quiet and slick. Yet here he was, apparently losing his mind.

"I demand a trial by combat!" Baelish shouted at him. "And I demand your brother be named as my champion."

Doran almost rolled his eyes but refrained. He shooed Oberyn forward and did the same with Jon. Both walked to stand in front of Baelish then turned towards each other.

"Prince Jon will represent house Nymeros Martell. Begin." Doran started to smile when Jon shoved Oberyn slightly. Oberyn held up his hands in surrender.

"I yield." Oberyn snorted and he and Jon walked away. Baelish howled even louder, claiming that this was a grave injustice.

"Gag him," Doran's curt order was followed and the guards roughly stuffed a rag into the mans mouth. "Face me, Lord Baelish." One of the guards forced the man to look when he struggled some more. "I hope by now you realize that you were never going to make it out of Dorne alive. Yes this was a farce but really why wouldn't it have been? You are nothing in Dorne or any of the Seven Kingdoms. Why would I even waste my time with giving you a real trial?"

Doran watched the man in front of him make a noise of protest even though his posture began to slump.

"I wasted my time now but I must admit it wasn't a complete failure." No, he had sated whatever curiosity he may have had when it came to Petyr Baelish. His early presumptions of the man had been wrong but he was not incorrect the Petyr Baelish, right now, without his supposed power, was nothing. "When you leave this room, I suggest you start making peace with what you have done, and pray that the gods are merciful."

He nodded at the guards and they dragged Baelish away. He didn't fight or protest or make any noise. But Doran knew that the man was a schemer, and he would try and weasel his way out of this. Try being the operative word in this case.

* * *

 

"Are you sure about this Arya?" Arianne watched the two siblings closely. Torran was as calm as she had ever seen him, Arya's stance was rigid and her her expression was hard.

"I am formally telling you as a Princess of Winterfell, that I will marry Gendry, with or without permission from his grace King Robb."

"He will give it, but I must ask you to wait for him to send a Legitimization letter for Gendry."

Arya looked towards her and her father. "Could one of you do it for Gendry instead?" She asked flatly.

"I will," Her father nodded from beside her. "It will strengthen the marriage you will have so that few could protest it. There is also the title that he will be given to consider. Will he be a prince like your brothers here or a prince consort? Either way, any children you may have will be named Stark. Until King Robb does his part, I will refrain from doing anything however."

Arya pursed her lips but nodded at her father respectfully.

"I will wait then," She muttered. "I must go speak with Gendry."

"We'll speak more on this later," Torran promised as Arya took her leave. He turned to Jon. "What do you make of that?"

"I honestly don't know," Jon shrugged. "I know at one point they weren't speaking to one another but I suppose they have been speaking. Even with all that's what happened."

"Do I want to know?" Torran raised an eyebrow.

"No, it was a misunderstanding."

Torran nodded with a sigh.

"One sister married, the other wanting to get married. When did I get so old?" Torran said aloud before turning to her and her father. "If my sister asks to get married in your Godswood with a Septon, will it be possible?"

"Of course," She answered this time. "While it would be the first time in recent memory that it happened, it can be done. None of our Septon's look down on any Godswood here."

There was a slight twitch in his face but he nodded at her. She knew that the Northmen were very particular about their places of worship and did not like the fact the there were no Weirwood trees south of the Neck. Torran and Jon never complained out loud but she knew that they did take issue with that fact. They still prayed there, not wanting to convert to the Faith of the Seven despite marrying their wives in a Sept.

"Thank you."

"You're family now," She shrugged at him. "Respecting ones faith is the least we could do."

"Why do you think we married our wives in a Southron ceremony?" Jon asked quietly. "We know that is the religion they follow. Our father did the same for his wife and even built her a Sept, one of two that exists in the North. Tyene has always followed the Seven as has Nymeria albeit in their own ways. We wouldn't seek to change that and they haven't asked us to change either."

"As far as I know Gendry does not follow any religion," Arianne observed Jon while listening to Torran. He must have been coerced by Tyene to wear such clothing because he very rarely wore anything with bright colors, especially red. She had to admit that one half of the Targaryen colors suited him very well. "And I think this is Arya's way of honoring her mother and our father. Gendry probably doesn't care too much about the ceremony."

"Most men in Westeros don't." Arianne snorted, watching as Torran had a quip on his lips, probably one about her certain proclivities and lack of marriage, but stopped when he looked at her father. She knew her father didn't care about those she took to bed, and Torran's jape would have been made in good fun, but she knew that eventually she would be expected to marry. And it would be to someone that more than likely wasn't Dornish, so she would have to withhold any desire to take a lover should she marry. "When do you plan to send King Tommen those letters father?"

"As soon as the last pirate we found is dead," Her father said crispy, his eyes flickering from her to Jon. "I must commend you on this plan Jon, it will rid us of two problems."

They were to use the captured pirates that tried to raid Planky Town as a cover for the execution for Petyr Baelish. Documents had been forged, stating the Baelish had hired the pirates as a distraction. They would claim that Baelish had some Sellswords with him, and they were trying to capture Princess Sansa for reasons unknown. It could be considered flimsy at best if one were to poke enough holes in it, but the Spider would help smooth things over. Especially when the bodies were sent there, with Baelish's head in a jar.

"Part of playing the game is to muddy the waters, is it not?" Jon shrugged his answer. He was still young to the game, but he was learning, she had to give him that. "It seemed like the best thing to do, but I am worried about the Vale. Littlefinger and Lady Lysa were very close from what I understand."

"Anyone that was loyal to the former Lord Baelish will be dealt with. As will Lady Lysa and her son." Her father's words were filled with absolute certainty. That meant that he had a source in the Vale that was in a position of power. It also meant that he wouldn't tell them until after the fact.

That was his way though, as she had learned over the years. It was not done out of cruelty or some misguided notion of protection. Her father thought it was the best way to see a plan through to the end, by telling very few people. Doing this had saved as many lives as possible, but it had strained his relationship with her and Quentyn, who only ever tried to prove that he was loyal to their family despite living with the biggest rivals to their house.

Over time she had learned she could have been Queen if she had married Viserys Targaryen, but that meant she would have to give up her birthright, something that she did not want to do. Her father had given her reports on his behavior and she prayed that something would happen to prevent a marriage between them. She had been relieved when news came of his death after he threatened his sisters unborn child in front of her, her husband, and his people. Her father told her that to do so in Dothraki lands was akin to suicide.

Being Queen of Westeros was very appealing, until one realized that at the end of the day, you answered to someone with more power than you. That may have been normal and expected for women raised to be dutiful to their lord husband, but not for someone like Arianne. Someone who was born first and would be first above all when she ascended to her place as the head of House Martell, and ruler of Dorne. No, coming second to anyone especially to someone that seemed just as Mad as his father was not a good thing for someone like her.

"How has Sansa taken the news?" She asked Torran and Jon who both grimaced. It was agreed that both sisters needed to know even with the news of their mothers demise.

"She feels disgusted by what she was told but she is glad that we are not treating her as a child." Torran replied. "And despite her coldness, and lack of tears, I know Arya is raging inside about not being able to kill Littlefinger. I was almost tempted to try and persuade you to let her. But I agree with your judgement, none of us would have been kind to Littlefinger or his body for that matter." He told her father who just nodded.

"They have been hurt quite a lot in recent days, we must rally behind them and support them." Her father said as we all nodded in agreement. "There will be trying times ahead, but if we stick together and fight with everything we have, we shall prevail in the end."

I hope you're right father, Arianne thought grimly. The War of the Usurper saw the realms bleed, this new war may destroy us all.

* * *

 

"How was your journey," Jaime sighed at his brothers question. How was he supposed to answer that? Long? Boring? Each day filled with dread because he didn't know if his family was alright?

"I'm alive so I suppose that counts for something."

"That counts for everything," Tyrion shot back, handing him cup of wine. "If you had died in any way, father would have lost his wits and lost control of everything. Luckily the Stark boy was smart enough to not have put you to the sword."

Jaime took a long sip from the cup in his hand. "I highly doubt that would happen to our father. He's not a fool."

"You are his heir despite your vows, and given what our nephew has decided, he may try and sway the king to have you in Casterly Rock instead of Cersei."

"He can try but I don't want it," Jaime said flatly. "I am knight who broke his vows twice. Once to save half a million people from a mad man. And the other time I sired a child with the woman I love. Well three times since she was Robert's queen as well."

The silence that followed bothered Jaime but he just took another sip of his wine.

"I don't want to ask this Jaime-"

"Then don't."

"But why?" Tyrion pressed on. "You could have any woman in the world, why her? Especially when everyone in Westeros looks down on incest."

"Close to two hundred and eighty-three years of Dragon rule suggests otherwise little brother."

"Don't be so dense," Tyrion rolled his eyes. "You know very well that the Targaryen's were of Valyrian descent and it is perfectly acceptable in their culture. Despite that, many people in Westeros adamantly refused to take up the practice, the Faith itself tried to rebel against the Targaryen's. House Lannister does not have Valyrian blood Jaime, so how was it acceptable for you and Cersei to do what you did?"

Jaime just drank his wine and didn't reply.

"Jamie-"

"What do you want me to say Tyrion," Jaime cut off his brother. "That I did it because I thought it was funny? That there was no way that I could love Cersei like that? We shared a womb, birth water, I came into this world grasping her foot. We are one body split into two. Whenever we are together, I feel whole." He turned away from his brother. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Understand what? Love? Of course I do Jaime," He looked towards Tyrion when he heard the anger in his voice. "You think I didn't love Tysha? The woman you claimed was a hired whore and was gang raped by Lannister men and myself at the behest of our father. Yes, Jaime, I know about your lie, I have known for sometime now."

"How?" Jaime's words were soft and filled with dread.

"You think that I didn't feel guilty about being party to her rape? Even if she was a whore she didn't deserve that. I had her watched by some spies I hired with the allowance I was given from father. It was through them that I found out that she was indeed a crofter's daughter and not a whore. They could have lied to me, but given how father feels about me, humiliating a young girl that loved me seems like something that he would do. You hardly helped your case by your reaction just now."

Jaime put his cup down and turned back to Tyrion.

"Brother I-"

"I hated you," Tyrion cut him off bluntly. "Part of me still does. How could you do that to me? Why would you help father deny me that chance at a happy life? I never did anything to make you want to do that, unless you blame me for what happened to mother."

"What? Of course I don't, you were a baby. You didn't kill our mother."

"Then why?"

"I-" Jaime couldn't think of a reason. He couldn't blame the orders his father gave him when he later defied his father to join the Kingsguard. Saying that he had no choice would have been a lie. "I don't know Tyrion. I have no excuse but I promise that I never meant to hurt you or Tysha. I helped you protect her for Gods sake."

"Then you can understand my confusion," Tyrion shot back coldly before sighing. "Do you want to know what else I found out about Tysha." He paused to see if Jaime would say something. When he didn't, he continued. "I have a son."

"Are you-"

"Sure? Yes I am," Jaime gave his brother a shocked looked to match the shocked words that fell from his lips. "The boy looks like any traditional Lannister which means he was conceived the night we consummated our marriage. That also means he was in his mother's womb when she was raped. Thank the gods he survived after all that trauma his mother went through and he has lived for twelve years as a healthy young man."

"What is his name," Jaime asked quietly. He had another nephew, one that he could never know judging from Tyrion's tone.

"Logan," Tyrion's eyes began to water. "Logan Lannister. Even after all that was done to her, she still gave him that name. I send them money anonymously but I think Tysha knows that it is me. They are in Lys with a guard I hired to watch them, and no one has attempted to harm them. But make no mistake brother, I will bring them back to Westeros when the time is right. They belong here, and my son will know his birthright."

He paused as Jaime slumped in his seat.

"Like I said I used to hate you, but father and our precious sister? I will always hate them. Father may have been born in the Westerlands but his heart is as cold as the Wall. Our sister? Well with you she helped create Aerys Targaryen the third. She refused to let one of Robert's true borne children rule, as was right. She fucked our cousin Lancel to get him to kill King Robert-"

"What?"

"Oh yes, a fact she remains unrepentant about. I wouldn't concern yourself with Lancel, he's already dead. Prince Oberyn saw to that. He implied that Father wouldn't have been kind to him. And looking at you know, neither would you."

Jaime clenched his jaw and looked down at his clenched fist. He slowly calmed down or did his best to do so. Lancel was dead, no point in getting angry with him. Cersei on the other hand...

"I do not tell you this to upset you, but I must warn you away from our sister. Your relationship is toxic and the separation is for the good of us all. Win the trial and we will leave after that. Do not not fall for her charms Jaime."

Jaime wanted to protest but he couldn't form the words. Tyrion hopped out of his chair and walked to him.

"You are the only one that truly loved me outside of uncle Kevan." Tyrion gripped at his shoulder roughly. "I may not hate you but that doesn't mean I forgive you. In time I may, but do not test me right now Jaime, I am not in the mood for such a thing. Win the trial." He repeated his words and patted his shoulder before leaving the room.

Jaime slumped even further into his seat, drained from the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Was it rushed? Let me know.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Use of strong language in the third pov. You have been warned.

"We have to take it to Winterfell," Jeor Mormont said grimly as the creature in front of him snarled, struggling against the restraints it was in. "We need more support from King Robb." He eyed the wight in front of him with disdain. The Bannermen that had been sent here were a boon, but between the Wildlings and this, they needed more.

"Is that a good idea Lord Commander?" One of the boys, Pyp, asked him. "This thing might get loose on the road."

"I know lad, but we need help. The Wights killed a lot of our men including Ser Alliser, this one will be proof we need to get the help we desperately need." Jeor sighed. "I will take this one myself, and speak to the King. He will listen to me. Edd, I leave you in command. Ready a horse and carriage if we have any left."

Jeor sighed again before closing his eyes. Bloody wights had been inside the Wall and they were all his fallen brothers who had gone ranging. Their bodies had been left outside the gate in what most thought was a taunt. Before they could even gather wood for their funeral pyre, the bodies woke up and attacked. It was a blood bath, one that left a sizable chunk of their force dead before they were able to start a fire.

"I'll go with you you Lord Commander," Jeor looked over to see Harmond Umber walking towards him. "You should bring one of the Black Brothers with us. Preferably that one." He pointed to one of the younger members, Grenn. "He's fast and he helped subdue this one." He smacked the Wight in the back of the head with a large stick, probably hoping that it would shut it up. The blow only served to aggravate the creature further.

"I need every available man for the wall, the Wildlings keep coming."

"I think we now know why," Smalljon said with a grimace. "I hate the fuckers mind you, but even I can understand the need to get away if wights are around." He gave Jeor a grim smile. "Does their presence mean what I think it means?"

"For the sake of sanity and reason, let us hope not my lad," Jeor said quietly. "But knowing that the gods love to play their games..."

"Then the White Walkers have returned, and we may be well and truly fucked."

* * *

 

**Sixth Day, Twelfth Month, 298 AL**

"Is this accurate Lord Varys?"

"I am afraid so your grace," Varys replied as Tommen reread the missive from Dorne. "It seems the deceased Lord Baelish was trying to kidnap a princess of Dorne."

"But why?" Tommen said with frustration, putting the missive down. "It makes no sense. What could he have possibly gained from such an act?"

"Your grace, Petyr Baelish liked to think of himself as a mysterious man," Varys began softly. "But he could be easily read. You see, he was in love with the Lady Catelyn Stark, had been since boyhood. He even fought for her hand and lost terribly. He was jealous that she was intended for another. "

"Is that why he betrayed lord Eddard Stark, you think?"

"I believe so," Varys nodded. "You have met Lady Catelyn yes? You have seen how much her eldest daughter looks like her?"

"I have," Tommen grimaced, thinking of Sansa. He genuinely hoped that she was happy in Dorne, if anyone deserved a bit of happiness in these times it would be her. "I suppose it is a good thing that the Dornish were able to handle this matter. Its a shame that we won't be able to get answers from Petyr Baelish. What of the Eyrie?"

"The lords that were loyal to him are in discontent. The Lady of the Eyrie mourns for her friend and former lover."

"I thought that you said he was in love with Lady Catelyn?" Tommen narrowed his eyes.

"I suppose in his mind one Tully girl was just as good as any." Tommen wrinkled his nose at the blase' answer.

"Have any of the Vale lords made demands then?"

"They are mostly silent on such things but I don't suspect that will not last for long."

Tommen rubbed at his face with a sigh. He really did not need to deal with this right now. He had a trial to attend, a wedding and coronation to plan. A potential civil war in the Vale is not something he needed at this moment.

"That will be dealt with in time. Is there anything else?"

"No your grace."

"Leave me, I must prepare for my mother's trial."

"Of course your grace. May the gods smile upon the Queen regent." Varys left with a small titter and Tommen sighed. As far as he knew, Varys only said the words but never meant them. Still, it was probably one of the few positive things he would hear this day.

He stood from his chair and began the trek to his rooms to get ready.

* * *

 

Tyrion was almost appalled at how easy this trial was going. He could have sworn it was rigged. He wouldn't say that out loud of course, but still, he couldn't help but stare in disbelief as his brother slit the throat of his opponent with one swipe of his sword.

"That fucker was so green he probably pissed grass and shit roses," Bronn muttered from his side. Tyrion couldn't help but agree as his father spoke.

"The gods have made their will known," He intoned, glaring at the Sparrows. "The Queen Regent has been found innocent. Release her."

Reluctantly, Cersei was released, looking smug as usual, even if she was disheveled.

"Take her to the Maidenvault," Tommen spoke up then to a bunch of serving girls. "Make sure she is rested and fed. She has a long way back to Casterly Rock to prepare for."

The look of shock and hurt on Cersei's face when she looked at her son would have made him feel sympathy for her once upon a time. Now, he felt nothing but a small amount of joy at the look of devastation on his sisters face. Even as she turned to look at their father, Tommen spoke again.

"Ser Jaime is to be taken to his quarters, he too must be rested and fed. He is to leave soon enough for Dragonstone." Tyrion heard the murmurings from the crowd as Jaime was lead away, they sounded approving. For what he wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to complain.

"Disperse the crowd," His father said curtly to the Gold Cloaks, before glaring at the so called High Sparrow, who had stepped forward. "Are you in need of something?"

"A word with his grace King Tommen," The man replied quietly.

"Yes?" Tommen's face was closed off as he asked the question.

"I wondered if you needed someone to oversee your coronation and marriage?"

Tyrion started to move, intending to speak on his nephews behalf, but Tommen shook his head slowly at him. Tommen turned back to the Sparrow after seeing the crowd begin to thin.

"I am awaiting a decision from the Most Devout," Tommen replied. "The Septon they choose will oversee the ceremony. I'm afraid that it cannot be you for they do not recognize you as anything more than a practitioner of the Faith, and not an appointed authority. They would like to speak with you and you alone, for what has transpired recently."

Tyrion watched the Sparrow closely. This man was responsible for the near rebirth of the Faith Militant and all he needed to do was speak and rally the people. This man was dangerous despite his unassuming looks and pious demeanor.

"I will meet with them your grace," The man replied quietly. Tyrion could have sworn that a small glint of annoyance in the mans eye before it disappeared.

"I do thank you for the offer if you intended to make one," Tommen added. "But I will not go against the council that makes decisions regarding the Faith. I would be at odds with the Seven."

"I understand your grace, and I thank you for speaking with me."

"You are one of the citizens of the Capitol, and it is my duty as King to listen to the citizens."

Tyrion thought that Tommen laid it on a bit thick there but said nothing. The High Sparrow nodded his head and began to leave, his followers flocking to him.

"Uncle Tyrion, walk with me," Tommen said suddenly, the words coming out like the snap of a whip. "Bring your hired sword." His nephew waved off his lord father who turned to glare at Tyrion. His expression said it all, 'you will tell me about this later'. Tyrion just nodded his head and motioned for Bronn to follow him. A White Cloak followed behind them.

After reaching their destination, Tommen's Solar, the young king began speaking after the White Cloak stood at the door.

"Are you prepared for this trip uncle?"

"I am," Tyrion nodded. "Though given the urgency we agreed on I am surprised that you wished to speak to me now your grace."

"There is something that I have been meaning to do for sometime but have been too busy to do so." Here Tommen addressed Bronn. "I never got to properly thank you for your aid the day my brother was killed."

Tyrion stomped on Bronn's foot in warning before he could speak.

"It was an honor to help, King Tommen." Bronn grunted with a brief glare towards him. Tommen ignored their byplay and retrieved a scroll from his pocket.

"This is yours," Tommen held it out to Bronn. The sellsword eyed it the took it slowly and opened it after getting a nod from Tommen. Tyrion watched as Bronn looked at the parchment in confusion before looking up in surprise.

"Your grace-"

"Kneel," Tommen murmured quietly. "And hand me your sword."

Tyrion took the parchment from Bronn and began to read.

In light of your bravery and protection for a member of a noble house, It read. I, king Tommen of the house Baratheon, King of the Andals, Lord protector of the realms do hereby name you -

Now Tyrion looked at his nephew in surprise as he took Bronn's Valyrian blade from him. Tommen admired it before tapping Bronn on each shoulder, landing on his right shoulder after seven taps.

"In the light of the Seven, I charge you, Ser Bronn, with protecting my uncles on their journey and that you serve them faithfully. Will you do this?"

"Yes your grace," Bronn said quietly. Tyrion didn't think that Bronn could be well mannered without being told to be but here he was, at least pretending to have some class.

"Then rise Ser Bronn, sworn sword to Tyrion and Ser Jaime Lannister." Tommen intoned solemnly, handing Bronn his sword. "If you are successful in the task before you, you will be given a keep with some land, maybe even a marriage could be arranged."

Tyrion watched as Bronn blanched at the word marriage and almost laughed. Marriage would suit Bronn ill unless he learned to curb certain parts of personality. And while Bronn didn't mind gathering information or asking questions to help further his own ends, he wouldn't change a thing about himself. It was one of the reasons Tyrion liked him, because he would never change. Adapt yes but to change his entire identity? No.

"I don't feel that it is necessary, your grace." Bronn replied, still as quiet as before.

"Very well, but if you change your mind let me know. I also urge you to take a personal sigil and let the realms know your name."

"Don't have one your grace," Bronn shrugged at Tommen. "I'm just a common boy born to common people." Tyrion thought that it was probably a lie but had no way of proving it. Bronn was well read, something most common people were not. Of course, he could have been taught during his travels, but Tyrion suspected that there may be more to it.

"Then whatever name you choose from now on, you will be known for all time."

"So I better make it good then," Bronn nodded and Tyrion sighed. "Maybe something to do with water since were surrounded by it." Bronn muttered to himself though Tyrion heard him.

"Uncle," Tommen addressed him directly. "I know you worry about the Sparrows and rightly so, but I need you to focus on Uncle Jaime. There is something...off about him." Tommen genuinely sounded concerned.

He is a lovesick fool that loves your mother, Tyrion thought but out loud he said, "Being held captive and the journey here has merely winded him your grace. It has not hindered his skill given his victory today."

Tommen gave him an exasperated look but changed the subject.

"The Sparrows will be taken care of before you get back," He said and Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "No I won't tell you how, for it must be kept quiet."

"Of course your grace," Tyrion would have doubted that Tommen would have been able to say such things let alone do them had he not seen the strength the young king gained since the trial of seven. Or maybe he always had this strength and no one noticed because he was the second son and not the first. "Will you see us off?"

"I will try, but there are many matters of state that I must address."

Tyrion wasn't sure, but he suspected that Tommen was deliberately avoiding Jaime and Cersei now. On the one hand, Tyrion understood. Both of them had produced a bastard born of incest who played at being king and helped send the realms into turmoil with his decisions. On the other hand, Cersei was his mother and Jaime was his uncle, all of them family, they could not be avoided for long.

"Understood your grace. May we take our leave to finish any last minute preparations?"

"Of course," Tommen nodded back softly. "In case I don't see you, good luck."

Tyrion bowed at the waist and all but dragged Bronn away. When they were far enough, Bronn spoke again.

"Holy fuck I'm a knight," He exclaimed quietly. "I never actually planned on that."

"And what did you plan on doing?" Tyrion asked curiously.

"Well not get knighted was one. I don't see the point in Knights and now I am one."

"Then why didn't you refuse the knight hood?"

"How the fuck was I supposed to say no to the bloody king? That boy has the power to take my head and no one would stop him or care enough to save a sellsword," He looked down at Tyrion then. "Well except you maybe."

"Of course, what would I be without you my friend?"

"Richer and with less baggage?" Bronn suggested.

"Friendless is what I would be," Tyrion tutted. "And while I do technically pay you to be my friend, I know that you had many chances to kill me and you haven't. Even when my sister tried to pay you handsomely to do so."

Bronn said nothing, he just kept walking.

"I thank you for that," Tyrion added. "And I thank you for swearing oaths to look out for me and my brother."

"You're the only one that needs it. You've killed before but you ain't no fighter. Your brother just needs to pull his head out of his arse and he'll be fine."

Easier said than done, Tyrion thought bitterly. Jaime was unlikely to give up on Cersei given his love for her, even with her sleeping with their cousin. He doubted that her burning King's Landing to ashes would stop him from loving her.

"Shame we couldn't take him to Dorne," Bronn said after awhile. "Different though they are, the Dornish provide two very important things that every man needs."

"I am sure that they provide more than two things but do go on."

"Fighting and fucking," Bronn said almost cheerfully. "There's always some fucker out there willing to give you a fight and a girl or boy willing to fuck you and clear your head for the next one."

"That was a shockingly narrow minded look at how the Dornish live." Tyrion said flatly, watching Bronn roll his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, they're all noble lords who do noble things," Bronn muttered. "But the Dornish only do that for their people, and they barely tolerate their guests unless they have a decent relationship with them. They don't like outsiders, especially if they are very vocal and critical of how the Dornish do things.

"When I was in Dorne, the only thing that was offered to me besides salt and bread was a face to smash in and a girl to join my bed. That's all they wanted me to know about their ways and people, which suited me just fine as I wasn't interested in anything more. And if I told that to anyone outside of their borders, then they would have certain expectations about Dorne, which gives the Dornish some advantage over potential enemies."

"As insightful as that was, my family is not a potential enemy of Dorne. We are the enemies of Dorne." They were nearing his quarters now, and Tyrion hoped that this conversation was truly done for now. He had a lot to think on.

"If that's the case, then why did you send your niece there?"

"Because as long Doran Martell and his family rule Dorne, there will be no butchery involving young girls or children. Not like what happened here at the end of the Rebellion." Tyrion walked through the door that lead to his rooms and Bronn followed. "Yet given how much they despise my family, we will not be going there unless invited or if the king asks us to go."

"Pity, your brother could use a proper fight or a good fuck," Bronn returned. "Or both. Whatever is needed to make him look less like a miserable cunt."

"Jaime will cheer up in time," Tyrion didn't fully believe the words he said but he hoped that he kept the doubt out of his voice.

"Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself?"

"I wasn't trying to convince anyone of anything," Tyrion said calmly. "Just stating the truth."

"If you say so, just don't be upset if you have to wait for a long time for that truth to become reality."

Tyrion didn't want to admit that maybe Bronn had a point there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harmond Umber is not an oc. I did research and found that Greatjon has at least one more son and a few daughters. I just gave the other son a name. As always, let me know what you think.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thirteenth Day, Twelfth Month, 298 AL**

Tommen walked as calmly as he could through the carnage that was before him. Bodies littered with arrows, body parts strewn across the floor, blood painted the walls and floor. The one thing that gave him pause and almost caused him to vomit was the sight of the High Sparrows head. It lay a few feet away from his body. Tommen knew that whomever had done the deed would be rewarded greatly by his grandfather for this was the ultimate goal.

'My father built his reign on the death of innocents,' He thought grimly, watching his grandfather and Septon Raynard walk towards him. 'Mine will be built on the death of my brother and the blood of these Sparrows.'

"Your grace, you need not see this-"

"I will memorize every part of this room," Tommen cut off the Septon. "so that I do not become so flippant about death. Not like my father or brother."

"It is not wise to speak ill of the dead, your grace." His grandfather chided him. "More so if they are family and of royalty as well." The Septon murmured his agreement.

"I was speaking truth, not ill." Tommen's response was cool, bordering on cold. "My father did not do right by Dorne for the murders of three Targaryen's. I imagine that I don't need to inform you about what my brother did to lord Eddard Stark. Its the reason why we are here in this room instead of the Sept."

There was no way that Tommen would allow further bloodshed at a place of worship. He wasn't overly religious but there was some lines that one did not cross in regards to a Sept. Joffrey did more than cross one of those lines, he pissed on it and laughed about it when people complained.

"Besides my lord hand, people talk of Aerys Targaryen poorly but I know that before his madness set in, he was actually a good king. The same could hardly be said of my father and brother. Unless you think I am mistaken and they were both just misunderstood geniuses that will be greatly missed by all the realms?"

His grandfather's gaze sharpened further than before but Tommen was unafraid. He had done nothing wrong and said nothing wrong in regards to his family. His grandfather wouldn't strike him, not in front of a Septon and if he further pressed on with this, Tommen would just make him leave.

"Do you plan to reward all those who eliminated the Sparrows?" He asked his grandfather.

"They have done the realms a service by stopping a rebellion before it started to gain ground. They will be rewarded handsomely."

"I hope not too handsomely, we can hardly afford it."

"Just a few knighthoods and maybe some lands to be gained. No gold will be given, your grace."

"Good," Tommen said curtly before turning to the Septon. "Who can I expect to handle my coronation and wedding?"

"I was voted to being High Septon your grace."

"Then I expect you to be ready within a fortnight." It would be a small wedding, no lavish dinners or ceremony. Tommen felt bad but Margaery understood, or so she said.

"I will be your grace," The new High Septon said firmly. Tommen just nodded his head, glancing around the room.

"Make sure that this room is cleaned, and give these men a proper burial. Even if they meant to rebel, they do not need to be handled so poorly in death." Not when they had already died like dogs, he thought, watching his grandfather nod. "Make any stragglers leave the capitol or kill them if it is absolutely necessary."

His grandfather gave him an approving nod, and Tommen nearly grit his teeth. He neither wanted nor needed his grandfather's approval but he said nothing. Instead, he looked around the room once more before he left without another word.

'Seven forgive me, but it needed to be done. I couldn't have their power grow under my rule, it would have spelled doom for generations to come.' Even with those thoughts, Tommen couldn't help but feel guilty.

* * *

 

Sansa helped put the finishing touches on her Arya's hair when Torran walked in.

"Are we ready?" He asked. Sansa took in his appearance as she nodded. His robes were in the green of his mother's house with grey patterns woven in and a white Direwolf across the chest. He had one hand on the curved handle of his sword which reminded Sansa of a cutlass. Only it was the length of a bastard sword and the guard didn't have a connecting piece to the handle, it was actually like most guards that the Westerosi used. The light green moonstone in the clawed pommel glinted whenever the light hit it and she had been told that it glowed in the night time.

"I would have been out earlier if Sansa hadn't insisted on doing these braids," Arya huffed, jabbing a finger at her head. Sansa almost rolled her eyes but refrained.

"And if you had stopped moving we would have been finished a long time ago." Arya just scowled at her, before she stood to adjust her belt and sheath her sword. Sansa would have been appalled at the idea of her sister wielding steel if Arya had been anything like her. But her sister was a wild little thing, always ready to do as she liked, regardless of the consequences. Few could tame her or rather, calm her and Sansa was not one of them, though she wouldn't try to do such a thing.

Torran offered his right arm to Arya and his left hand to her. Arya takes his arm with her left and Sansa gives him a puzzled frown. It is unusual for someone that uses a sword to offer both hands to two different people.

"We are in a place where no one will bare steel against me. I can walk you both there with little protest." He says, as if he could hear her thoughts. Sansa gives him a smile and takes his hand. As they walk to the Godswood of Sunspear, Torran looks down at Arya.

"Are you absolutely sure that you want to do this today?"

"There's no point in delaying it," Arya's words are filled with bitterness but Sansa thinks that there is a fondness of some kind as well.

"No one is rushing you-"

"I know," Arya almost snaps irritably but stops just shy of doing so. "I am doing this because I want to. If I sound bitter or upset it is because I wanted to do this on better terms."

"Then wait," Torran stopped walking and spoke calmly. "Wait for a better day."

"There won't be one. We're still at war and...after all that has happened we need some good memories going forward."

"And a wedding can be a good memory," Sansa whispered but she was sure that they both heard her.

"Indeed," Torran sighed, giving her hand a squeeze. "I was happy on the day that I got married. For the most part I still am."

"And today I will add to that," Arya sighed as well, tugging on Torran's arm to get him moving. Torran didn't budge. "At least I am marrying someone who won't treat me as a broodmare, otherwise I would have gelded him long ago. Thankfully, my bull is much smarter than that."

"But you always call him stupid," Sansa brought her free hand to her mouth with a slight gasp. She hadn't meant to say that out loud and she hadn't meant anything by it. Gendry was kind to her, sweet even, and it wasn't difficult to see that he was smitten with Arya, even if he wouldn't own up to it immediately.

"And since when is he your bull?" Torran asked teasingly.

"He's my bull because I say so," Arya said flatly, giving him a glare. Her eyes shifted to Sansa and they soften just a little. "And I call him stupid because he acts like it. I don't actually think he is stupid but sometimes he just-just-" Arya blew out a frustrated breath and waved her hand. "Never mind. I have a bull to marry today."

"A union between a Bull and a Direwolf," Torran mused. "You should take a horned Direwolf for your own house sigil sister, since now you and Gendry will lead a cadet branch of house Stark."

"I will think on it."

Sansa thought that Arya probably wouldn't think too much on it. Sansa hadn't thought much on the same subject when Oberyn brought it up to her not so long ago. Sansa was happy to be a Princess of house Nymeros Martell and she wasn't sure about taking her own sigil, despite Oberyn and Ellaria telling her that it would be perfectly fine. She did contemplate making a sigil for her stepdaughters, with some help from Torran and Jon, but nothing had come to mind just yet.

"I am happy for you Arya," Torran murmured softly. "I am happy for you both. And I just want to say that I will always be here if you need me. Jon too. Just because you both are now married or will be at least, you are still my sisters, and I will do everything I can to help you with the best of my abilities."

Sansa stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which he accepted. He looked down at Arya who looked close to tears. Torran let go of her hand and took Arya into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Mama and Daddy should be here." Arya chocked out and Sansa had to fan her face when she felt her eyes sting. Arya hadn't called their parents that in ages, having been told by their mother that it was improper to do it for so long.

"They are here sweet girl, they are watching over us all." Torran sad with a slight catch in his throat. Sansa knew that Torran missed their father more so than Lady Catelyn but he grieved for all the children none the less. "They will see their youngest daughter get married to the one she loves and they will smile."

"How do you know?"

"Because all they wanted was for you to be happy. And Gendry makes you happy."

Sansa saw Arya nod into Torran's neck even though he didn't ask her a question.

"Then mayhaps we should not keep him waiting any longer." Torran put Arya down before wiping the tears from her face and kissing her forehead. Arya gave him a nod and reclaimed his arm. Torran grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it and giving her a smile.

"Let's not keep them waiting," Sansa smiled back at her brother and all three began their trek to the Godswood.

* * *

 

Jon watched the party goers with a smile. Not every house had been invited to the wedding but enough people had come, including Edric Dayne, his mother, and his half siblings. Arya and Gendry had taken a table for themselves, with his sister being cloaked in in grey and black. They were Gendry's colors from his personal sigil, a silver bull on a field of black.

Thinking of the sigil his brother by law had, made Jon absently touch the Direwolf on his chest. He had been trying to make his own sigil, but he had very little artistic ability. What little he had though, had always ended with a white Direwolf with white wings. Jon had burned many pieces of parchment hat it was a wonder that there was any left before he had given up.

Deep down he knew that his Dragon blood was coming to the surface but he pushed it down. He was raised a wolf, and he would be a wolf until his dying day, even if his wife asked him to consider learning about his blood father's family.

His wife placed her head on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts and handed him a cup of wine.

"You should be drinking more, your sister just got married. People might think that you're unhappy." Jon chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"If I drank too much they would say the same," Tyene looked up at him with a smile. Jon's gaze flickered over to his brother who had his paramour in his lap and his wife at his side. Torran must have felt his gaze upon him because his eyes turned away from the two women who held his heart and looked at him. Jon gestured to the newly wedded couple with his cup before raising it.

Torran picked his up in response and raised it as well before bringing it to his lips. So did Jon but he stopped just shy of taking a drink when he felt something in the pit of his stomach and heard a voice.

_Come to me._

Jon almost dropped his cup but he managed to put it down before he could.

"Jon?" Tyene grabbed at his shoulder when he tensed up.

"Didn't you hear that?" He asked starting to stand.

"Hear what?"

_Come to me son of Rhaegar and Lyanna._

Jon felt cold at those words. He knew that he wasn't drunk since he barely drank anything, and no one would have been able to poison him so it wasn't that either. He glanced at Torran who was also standing but was looking around the room and not at Jon.

_Come to me now._

Ghost and Stone started howling outside of the hall and Jon moved towards them, which also made the feeling he had start to grow. Both Direwolves broke into a run and Jon did as well.

"Jon!" He ignored the shout of his wife and ran as hard as he could. Torran came up to his side holding a torch but he didn't say a word, he just ran as well. The feeling in his stomach grew stronger, the howls got louder, and Jon could hear people running behind him as he ran towards the Godswood.

Panting, he slowed down after awhile, watching the two Direwolves circle around a glowing white and red sapling. He stared at it when he realized that it was a Weirwood sapling, a proper one.

_Touch the Sapling boy._

"No," He snarled at the commanding voice but he felt his legs begin to move against his will. He grunted against invisible restraints as he kept walking.

"What the fuck is happening?" Arya hissed from behind him. "I can't stop moving."

"Neither can I," Sansa sounded desperate.

Jon's hand twitched towards the sapling. He felt arms grab at him and were trying to pull him in the other direction, away from the sapling. He head many shouts from around him as he fought but one stood out.

"Fight it Jon, don't touch it!" Torran yelled out.

"I can't," Jon's body pushed against the hands holding him and fought against his will. When the tips of his fingers touched the sapling, everything went white.


	23. Chapter 23

"Robb!"

Robb groaned and opened his eyes slowly. He looked up at the person who shook his shoulder and blinked.

"Arya?" That couldn't be possible, she was in Dorne and Robb was in the Godswood of Winterfell. Or so he thought as he lifted his head and looked around. They were surrounded by nothing but snow with a grey sky. No trees, no mountains just a plain of snow.

Snow that wasn't cold in the least.

"You alive over there, Stark?" He heard Jon's voice next.

Robb slowly sat up to see almost all of his siblings and someone he didn't know but who looked familiar.

"I must be dreaming," He muttered, and the voice he heard from before barked a laugh.

"Have you every heard of six people having the same dream at the same time, boy?"

He snapped his head towards a bearded, grey cloaked figure that walked toward their group. He hastily got to his feet and stood in front of Arya. Jon, Torran, and the boy he didn't know, joined him with Sansa standing next to Arya. As far as Robb could see, this man had no weapons but he wasn't taking any chances.

"If I wanted to kill any of you, boy, I wouldn't have announced myself to you all."

"You are speaking to his grace, King Robb of the house Stark-"

"I know who he is boy," This man waved a hand dismissively, grey eyes settling on Robb as he cut off Torran. "And frankly he looks more like a fish than a wolf."

"I may look like a fish, but my blood is of the North." Robb said firmly.

"And the South," The man almost said the word South like it was a curse. "Every one of you that stands before me has the blood of the North and the South. Your Northern blood is why you heard my call, and it is why you are here."

"And who are you to call us?"

"By the gods it should be obvious. Haven't you figured it out boy," The man asked him. "Someone with your education surely must know of Stark history?"

"Of course I do," Robb hoped he sounded firm still even if he was slightly offended. Why wouldn't he know his family history?

"I assume almost all of you know the history of house Stark as well?" One by one everyone else nodded though Arya huffed out a few words from beside him.

"Just tell us who you are before we die of boredom, old man." He tried to tell her to keep quiet, lest they offend the man.

Instead of being offended, the man smiled sadly and wistfully, like he remembered something dear to him.

"Before my death I was known as the King of Winter," He began slowly, eyes burning with hatred but his voice was tinged with regret. "Before my death, I was known as the king who knelt. But to my family, I was Torr or Torrhen if you needed to be formal."

Robb jerked back in surprise. No, it couldn't be, it was impossible. This was Torrhen Stark? He certainly looked like a Stark, but was he the man who had saved thousands if not hundreds of thousands from dragon fire when he knelt?

"That was hardly my finest moment." Torrhen snorted and Robb frowned. Did he just...? "Yes I can hear what you're thinking and the day that I knelt was not my finest day."

"What do you mean," It was the boy that Robb did know. He was giving Torrhen an incredulous look. "Even in Dorne we admire what you did. If you are who you say you are at least."

"Why?" Torrhen's voice was harsh and swift. "Why would they admire what I did that day. All I did was sacrifice my family's pride and honor. My people were in discontent, some even fled beyond the wall and to the east. Almost all my own sons rose in rebellion because of my decision, and the majority followed those that went to Essos, becoming leaders of what is now the Company of the Winter Rose. My only daughter," Here he paused and his face became rather pinched. "My only daughter was sold like a chattel to house Arryn under the guise of a betrothal. And do you know what happened to her and their children?"

No one said anything and Torrhen looked at all of them grimly.

"My daughter Alys was killed by her brother in marriage, her children and husband as well. My heart, as cold and as hard as it needed to be, finally broke when I got that news. I wasn't even able to get her body because she was thrown out of that bloody door that oversees the mountains! I wasn't even allowed to avenge her because my King and his whore wives forbade it! It was their fault that my daughter was dead and they had the nerve to give me nothing but their condolences when I wanted blood!

"Peace needed to reign in the kingdoms they said, a war was not needed they said. I still piss on their graves even if I am dead."

Robb shifted his stance in response to Torrhen's outburst. The other man let out a harsh breath before he spoke again.

"What's worse about the Arryn's is that with time, people forgot about what they did to our house, including Rickard Stark who fostered one of his boys with the noble Jon Arryn. A man so noble that he considered the actions of Gregor Clegane dark, but necessary for his precious Robert to be a king unchallenged. So much so that he let the man live so there could be 'peace' in the Realms, even though he knew that what happened was wrong. Sound familiar, Edric, son of Eddard and Ashara?"

Robb turned to look at the other boy he hadn't met though he had been curious about. His hair and eye color were clearly his mother's, but the shape of them and even some of his features marked him as their father's son.

"So I ask you again, why would the Dornish admire me when my decision caused unrest in my kingdom?"

"Because if you hadn't surrendered, your people wouldn't have lived long enough to resent you."

"You are painfully naive if you think that is a good reason," Torrhen Stark said quietly, staring at Edric with something akin to pity and Edric bristled.

"Why are we here?" Jon said after a moment of silence. "And where is here?"

"You are here, because as far as I am concerned, all of you are not ready to face what is coming."

"The White Walkers," Robb said grimly, having seen the Wight that Jeor Mormont had brought from the Wall. "They're back."

"Aye and their king has awoken from his slumber as well. I know some of you are disbelieving of this, but," Torrhen gestured to himself then to the surrounding area. "here we are."

"So what, you're here to train us?" Torran asked his namesake skeptically.

"You could have worse than me boy." The former king gave Torran a hard stare. "Now enough talk, its time for all of you to prepare." He clapped his hands together once before anyone could protest and the world went white.

* * *

 

Oberyn hadn't left the Godswood in nearly four days. The others had come and gone but he stayed, him, Gendry, and the two Direwolves, watching the new tree in front of them. Now hadn't that been a shock, a whole new Weirwood tree had grown the night that this all began after a quick flash of light.

And it was still growing as far as he could tell, complete with a face at its center, one that seemed to be judging him every time he looked at it.

Oberyn remembered how it almost caught fire because of the torch that Torran brought with him. The roots had grown quickly, quicker than anyone could follow but Oberyn had reached for the torch. His young wife, his sister by law and their brothers were cradled in the tree, and he would not see them burned. However, before he could grab it, the torch was smothered by the roots of the tree.

Oberyn and those in the area couldn't help but watch in fascination. Weirwood was stronger than most wood but it was not immune to fire and yet this tree was not set a flame. Of course maybe some oil would have helped it along but Oberyn was hardly going to complain about it not working.

Any attempts to cut them down had not gone according to plan. Regular steel just bounced off of the branches like a rubber ball. Valyrian steel could only cut through it at about an inch or so before the red sap 'repaired' the cut. All Oberyn could do was just watch them and the...changes their bodies went through.

To the naked eye it would look like they were just sleeping but Oberyn could see more. Whatever was happening to them, it was making them tired, perhaps in mind and soul, as well as body. The most startling physical change of them all came from Jon. His face was beginning to favor his father just a little, but his Stark heritage was holding out for now. His hair though, was no longer the same. The dark ringlets that had made up his mane were now gone and a few streaks of silver had appeared. Knowing Jon as well as he did, he would shave his head bald so that he wouldn't look at it in the mirror.

"Arya just twitched," Gendry said from his side. Oberyn eyed the young prince consort as he stood before glancing at Sansa as she shifted in the makeshift cradle of branches. Oberyn got to his feet, stepping around the Direwolves that sniffed at the roots or yipped at the branches. He knew that he should have called for help but instead he stood just below Sansa, ready to catch her if she fell.

 _We do not harm one of our daughters,_ A voice said to him and to prove its point, the branches slowly lowered her to him, some pulling away when she was in his reach. He took her into his arms and got an even better look at his wife. Sansa blinked rapidly before turning her face into his shoulder and away from the light.

"Gather everyone, we need to talk."

He would have protested, her voice was hoarse from disuse and she was clearly tired, but then she looked up at him. There was a fire in her blue eyes, one that could not be quenched so he nodded his head.

"I will my love," He noticed that the others were being lowered to the ground and Gendry already had Arya. Gendry gave him a look which suggested that he wasn't happy with whatever he had been told. Oberyn nodded in understanding but offered no advice.

"Watch them," Oberyn murmured to the wolves. Both looked up at him briefly before turning their attention back to those in front of them. No one would harm the others, but this tree made him uneasy and he doubted that was ever going to change.

* * *

 

All throughout the world, Weirwood trees had suddenly sprouted up in various places, his little birds told him. Even in the places that no longer had any reason to have them, they still grew. Many followers of the Seven or any religion that didn't worship the old gods had tried to...remove them through various means, all of which failed.

Varys was sure that many would call this black magic but he knew what it looked like and this wasn't it. No, whatever this was, it was not magic, maybe something more. He needed to know, for the safety of all the Realms he needed to know. Especially since certain groups were acting irregular. Namely the Mountain clans from the Vale and a certain sellsword company.

The former was heading North, after telling those at the Bloody Gate that they were needed elsewhere but the survivors would return. The Company of the Winter Rose had turned down any contract that came their way and were getting ready to set sail for Westeros...and to the North.

Varys wasn't sure if such things unsettled him but he thought maybe they should. Why would any of them head to the North? The Mountain Clans had no ties there as far as he knew and the sellswords had a minimal connection at best so why? Of course Varys would be patient in getting these answers, patience is what allowed his influence to grow, but for his plans to work, he would need all of the facts.

But given the present that Prince Oberyn gave me to deal Tywin Lannister, mayhaps I will not be too stressed, He thought with a small smile. Being in the presence of that man made his blood boil but he kept his true feelings hidden well enough. Given the dosage that he put in every meal that the man ate, it would take time for the man to be gone. Long enough, perhaps, to hear about the upcoming death of his daughter.

One noble born daughter for another, His thoughts turned vicious, thinking about Princess Elia and her children. Killing Cersei Lannister and her father was more than necessary. Both were dangerous people and if he had any say, both would be gone before he was.

Tyrion could be spared, with his only crime being that he was born into that family. Ser Jaime would be left at the tender mercy of Daenerys Targaryen, if she felt merciful. In the end, the powerful legacy of house Lannister was about to take a severe hit, one they may never recover from. That filled him with more joy than when he learned that the man who cut him had been captured, and would be sent here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sellsword company is actually called the Company of the Rose in canon but I wanted to make it sound a bit more Northern, if that makes any sense. Let me know what you thought.


	24. Chapter 24

Jamie was growing tired of the staring. Tired of the whispers of the so called Dragon Seed on Dragon Stone.

Kingslayer.

Murderer.

Traitor.

That's all they said whenever they saw him. Why were they allowed to live again? Oh yes, because they had bent the knee despite being blindly loyal to the Mad King. They should have been put to the sword and be done with it, but Stannis Baratheon was not entirely cold. If someone surrendered to him, he wouldn't kill them, even if it was the logical thing to do. Very few refused to bend the knee to Robert's forces, but they weren't here or were dead.

This place was miserable, not that it was much better the last time he was here. When he came to retrieve Prince Rhaegar, Princess Elia and their children, with Ser Oswell, this place had a bit more life to it. Now that feeling of life had dimmed to the point where it was almost lifeless, despite there being living souls here. It was a strange thing.

"Ser Jaime," The dulcet tones of the common folk reached his ears and he turned.

"Ser Bronn," Jaime greeted his fellow knight with a nod. He eyed the patch on Bronn's sleeve. "What is that?"

"My sigil," Bronn said drawing himself up in what was nothing more than a mockery of self importance. "And the sigil of house Blackwater."

"That poor Ram appears to be unpopular," Jaime nodded at the golden ram's head that had seven swords sticking out of it.

"Nah, just my way of paying tribute to how I was knighted."

"The only way to be knighted," Jaime corrected, thinking about the seven taps and the words spoken. "There are no other ways to be a knight."

"But knights ain't the only ones to be regarded as strong warriors," Bronn countered. "The North had their own version of a knight called the Berserks or the Valkyria and they might have them again. In Norvos the train their boys with glaives, though they call em axes, and those boys become known as the Watchers. There's one in Dorne, most people wouldn't notice though since he looks like a Summer Islander and not a Norvoshi."

"We're not in any of those places Bronn," Jaime said swiftly. "Now why did you come here?"

"You and your brother are needed in the main hall. Tyrion's outside, waiting for us."

"Joy," Jaime said sarcastically. "Another meeting with the lord of Dragonstone."

"He's not that bad," Bronn shrugged when Jaime gave him an incredulous look. "He's like most lords I've met, stick up the arse and all so again, he's not that bad. Davos is alright."

Ah yes, the Onion knight, Jaime thought. Both he and Bronn embodied the ideal that a commoner could rise above their station and become a knight. Ser Davos, of course, had the unfortunate circumstance of being knighted by Stannis Baratheon - after he cut off the tips of his fingers on his right hand. Bronn's was the simpler of the two but both didn't seem to mind the circumstances in which they were placed.

"Let's get this over with then." Jaime said in a resigned tone. "Hopefully we can leave this rock today."

"And I was just getting used to the atmosphere."

* * *

 

Robb kissed his wife on the lips before kissing his son on the forehead. He gestured for Theon to hand him his little girl, his first born child. Cuddling her close, he took in her scent and her delighted giggles as he nuzzled her, trying his best to keep from crying. He reluctantly handed her back to Theon who gave him a grim nod.

'I will protect them.'

His vow had echoed in the back of Robb's head, and the young king nodded back. Robb watched as they began to leave, keeping his face blank. His wife blew him a kiss as she entered her carriage. He blew her one as well, after taking a shuddering breath. It was a sign of weakness, in the South at least, but Robb couldn't help it. With the war for humanity's continued existence upon them, Robb may never see his family again if he failed.

The carriage was almost out of sight when he heard his uncle speak.

"It is necessary your grace," He said and Robb just nodded his head. "Your brothers will protect all of them. So will the guard members you sent."

"I know Ser Brynden, it doesn't make it hurt any less. What of the wight?"

"It has been destroyed at your command." Ser Brynden replied softly. "And the Lord Commander has gone to give the news to the black brothers. I am unsure as to how they will take the news."

"They don't have a choice," Robb said through gritted teeth. Jeror Mormont had pledged the Night's Watch to him and his descendants from now till the end of time. Robb couldn't bring himself to care if they took issue with it. "That wall was built with the blood, sweat, and tears of my ancestors. They may have gifted the wall to the Watch, but I am taking it back for I will have unity in this coming war. If any of them wish to leave they may, but if they leave without my consent, have them killed and their bodies burned."

"Of course your grace."

Robb would have done it himself but with the Walkers on the move, he couldn't waste any time or energy with executions. He also needed to plan a meeting with the Wildlings to see if they would be willing to work with them, not as his loyal subjects but as...partners. If they were to hold the walkers here, in the North, they all needed to work together.

With sending the rest of his brothers, his family and some guards as far south as they could go, Robb could focus on the game plan.

"Ready the defenses of Winterfell, and the gather our travel party Ser Brynden, we ride for Castle Black."

"At once your grace," Brynden Tully nodded and began shouting orders to see the will of his king be done.

* * *

 

Torran smiled as he heard a shriek of laughter from Alyssa who sat atop his Direwolf with Ellaria. The little girl was sat in front of Ellaria, tiny hands grabbing fistfuls of Stone's fur as she laughed. His Direwolf seemed well chuffed at having a 'cub' to entertain and Torran knew that it was practice for when Rebekah gave birth.

Torran sighed as he blocked a strike from Jon, then a knee and an elbow. Torran threw a punch and tried to sweep Jon's legs from under him. When Jon jumped over him, Torran caught one of his legs and tripped him. Torran rolled and swung his leg out to clip Jon in the face.

His brother caught the blow and looked at him with Grayish Purple eyes. That had been one of the changes to Jon's body that was most likely permanent. Jon had not been happy with any the changes he went through, but was putting that aside for now.

"If you managed to damage my face, Tyene might take issue with it."

"Considering all the pouting you've done, my help could improve it."

Jon scowled at him but let his leg go.

"Now what's the matter with you?" Jon demanded. "You're distracted today."

Torran sighed again, this time in irritation for being noticed but he responded all the same.

"None of them have responded well to what has happened to us," He whispered as he sat down on the ground. He watched his Direwolf and Jon's who had the younger snakes with him. "Our wives and lovers especially. I think...I think they're afraid of us."

"I think they are as well," Jon nodded his head when Torran turned to him. "but their love for us is more powerful. They need time to adjust to what has happened."

"I know that," Torran said sharply. "I have no plans to rush them into accepting things but-" Here he struggled for a bit to find the right words. "But I don't want them to be afraid of me. I would never hurt them, I would rather die than do so." He chocked out, looking on the verge of tears and Jon sighed himself.

"They know that Torran," Jon spoke quietly then. "However, we just told them that a group of creatures that we all considered to be fantasy is alive and well. We also told them that we plan to make war on them, not because we all are some heroes from a prophecy, but because we were warned by one of our dead ancestors with whom contacted us from a tree. We're lucky that they haven't declared us insane and imprisoned us."

Torran clenched his jaw but smiled as he heard another shriek from Alyssa. Loreza had somehow gotten Ghost to give her a ride and she was making faces at her new sister.

"At least we have more reminders for why we must do what we need to." Jon commented, nodding to the children. "Its for them, to secure their future and the future of our own children. Tyene thinks we're having a girl." He added with a small smile of his own.

"Thinks or hopes? Either way, you'll spoil that child rotten."

"And you won't with your own pup on the way?" Jon shot back.

"I never said I wouldn't," Torran snorted. "I just know that you will. If we name any of our pups after Robb or Theon, both of them will spoil our children as well."

"We'll get to spoil Robb's children when they get here," Jon grimaced in sympathy. "That must have been hard for him to do."

"Of course it was. Its not helped by the fact that neither you nor I is there to help him. Thank fuck that we can communicate through the tree in the Godswood, otherwise we would make ourselves mad with worry."

And thank fuck there's plenty of them up North, even near the Wall, He thought, almost laughing when he thought about all the other trees that had grown the night of his sisters wedding. Certain members of the Seven had gotten in to a tizzy for they could not remove the trees. And how could they, the trees were blessings from the gods, just not the ones they worshiped. The Old Gods were making sure that their children were ready for war, and those that would seek to harm them would not be able to.

They had to carve runes into the tree so that none of the Walkers could access it. Any tree that they used would have to be protected by the runes since there were some beings that could move through them, though that particular set of magic wasn't widely practiced. Torrhen offered to teach them the methods anyway in case they wanted to travel themselves. None of them committed to it just yet.

"Torr!" Alyssa shrieked as Stone trotted up to him. "Torr!" She shrieked again, holding her arms out and Torran smiled.

"Does my little sand princess want to be carried," Torran smiled at her and stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers. He gently picked her up while she jabbered at him. Torran nodded his head, and made noises of agreement, as if they were actually having a conversation. "Someone's feeling chatty today." He remarked to Jon.

"She's been trying to gain everyone's attention." Ellaria explained, dismounting his Direwolf and giving her a loving pat. "She doesn't understand why all of us were not together for those four days."

"One day you will," Torran murmured to Alyssa, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "I promise."

Podrick came running over to him and stopped, trying to catch his breath.

"Take your time," Torran said to his squire.

"Prince Doran wants to speak with the both of you," Podrick gasped out, hands on his knees. "there's been a reply from Lord Baratheon of Dragonstone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone wants to take a crack at realizing Bronn's sigil, please feel free to do so. I drew my own version of it, and while I can draw some things, I can't draw everything and I would like to see what you come up with. Other than that, let me know what you thought.


	25. Chapter 25

"Lord Baratheon has agreed to give us some Dragonglass," Doran held up the missive in his hand, trying not to smile at the sight of Alyssa clinging to Torran like a limpet. "In return we must gift to him some Valyrian steel. Three blades to be exact. There has also been talk of fostering one of his sons."

"Does he want a betrothal pact as well," Torran said flatly, gently grabbing Alyssa's hands as she patted his face in an attempt to get his attention. He gave her a kiss on the forehead to calm her and she huffed.

"I told him that I had no available children for marriage so no he does not want that." That wasn't entirely true but he knew that Arianne would chose her own husband and Quentyn may yet be successful in his mission. Trystane was quite taken with his bride to be so that left him out. "Even if I did I am not entirely sure that he would have wanted his children to marry mine."

"Its not as if the relationship between House Martell and House Baratheon is a strong one either," Jon pointed out. "He may not even like the fact that his only niece is getting married into this family. How is she by the way?"

"Confused," Doran admitted. "She doesn't understand what has happened or what is happening. I do think that she has some idea but she has not spoken of it to anyone. Nor has she written to anyone about what has happened." Myrcella was a sweet young woman, but Doran could not trust her with something like this or really with anything involving her family. She had already told them of Torran and Jon's presence here, which he allowed, but he could not allow any more to be said. Too many lives depended on it.

"You have been reading her letters?" Neither Torran nor Jon seemed surprise but they were curious.

"Dorne and all the people in it, are my responsibility," Doran replied, indulging their curiosity. "I must know exactly where and when any problems or issues arise. And I always know. My reading of Myrcella's letters is not done with malicious intent. One half of her family murdered part of mine and the other helped them grow stronger because of it. I have taken steps to ensure the downfall of the ones I truly detest the most as you well know.

"However, no harm will come to Myrcella while she is here, not as long as I rule."

"No one would try anyway, not after what happened to your sister and her children."

"I know enough people who would try in certain circumstances," Doran replied. "Your wives and their sisters for example." Doran raised a hand at them when they started to protest. "I mean no disrespect. They are my nieces, I love them all. Even Ellaria has earned a place in my heart for the happiness that she has given my brother. But my mind has not become faulty in my age nor have my eyes begun to dim. All of them are dangerous, the elder four snakes especially.

"Obara would hold Myrcella hostage and would most likely mutilate her, sending the pieces to King's Landing. Nymeria would be leave Myrcella's body at the gates of the Capital or even in the Queen's bed. Tyene wouldn't touch her until after she had poisoned the others first. Sarella would use her connections in the Citadel and turn the Crownlands to ash."

He took a sip of water from the cup at his side.

"The four youngest snakes idolize their older sisters and they will be just as deadly as time goes on. I have no doubt that all of them would have started a war to avenge Oberyn had he died the day of the trial. Myrcella would have been the first casualty of it."

"Oberyn would have never wanted that to happen to a young woman," Torran said darkly with Jon nodding his head. "And Ellaria would have never allowed her daughters to partake in such a thing."

"Who said that she wouldn't have joined them?" Doran returned. "It is more likely that she would have sought a more peaceful route to dealing with Oberyn's death, but other options would be available to her. It is not out of the realm of possibility that she would seek vengeance...and make war on those that were responsible for their pain."

"You sound like you would let them," Jon gave him a piercing stare. Neither of them looked like they agreed with him but they were willing to listen.

"I would have been the last of my mother's children if my brother had not made that promise to his wife. If Oberyn had died that day, and if none of you were here to support his daughters and Ellaria, Dorne would have been on the verge of war. I have been in war, I have seen the battlefields with piles of bodies stacked higher than any man. I have seen what it does to the women in the villages and cities. I have seen what it does to the children. Dorne should never know such hell. It was already terrible enough that we lost ten thousand souls in the last war, but we would have lost more if my brother died."

"And I would have been powerless to stop it."

"Powerless," Torran said incredulously, laying Alyssa's head on his shoulder as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. "You're the Prince of Dorne."

"And I was someone who was considered weak until I started walking again." He said a bit sharper than he meant too. "I know all that happens in my country, I must know what happens in my country. That means that I know about those who wish my brother were born first or wish that my mother was still alive. The only one who truly understands me is Oberyn, just as I understand him. My brother is ruled by his passions and in another life, he would have been just as cruel as others think he is.

"Ellaria and the girls are what brought him out of the darkness when Elia and her children were butchered, but that doesn't mean he was happy my with choices. Nor was he alone in thinking that way but he was kinder about it and more understanding than others. My point, dear nephew, is that as powerful as I am and as powerful as our family name is, there was always a chance for it all to fall apart."

The ensuing silence that followed was broken by a whimper from the babe among them.

"Suh."

"You want Sansa, my little princess?"

"Suh," Alyssa said again, starting to fall asleep. This time, Doran did smile. This little girl was but another part of the family yet she brought out the best in those around her by just simply being. Torran was probably the most impatient young man that he had ever known, save for his own brother but with Alyssa he was extremely patient and caring.

"I'll take you to Sansa," Torran gave her another kiss and adjust his grip. "Do you still have need of me my prince?"

"No," Doran shook his head. "Any other details can be worked out later." He dismissed all three of them.

"They didn't take too kindly to what you said my prince," Areo said to him when they left.

"No they didn't," Doran sighed. "but was I wrong?"

His friend said nothing.

* * *

 

"My uncle is not wrong in what he said," Nymeria said slowly, a thoughtful expression on her beautiful face. "If my father had died, we wouldn't have been quiet in our rage."

"But you wouldn't kill a young girl," Torran protested.

"I might have, if I got to her first." Nymeria just shrugged at him as he gaped. "After her death, I had heard nothing but stories about my aunt. The saddest and most maddening of them all was of her murder. 'They raped her. They murdered her. They killed her children.' That's how my father told the story knowing full well how much aunt Elia meant to those that knew her. My aunt used to sing me to sleep as a child so I remember her fondly. What happened to her cannot be brushed aside. Killing Clegane was one part of it. The rest have to pay and they will, its just their children that won't."

Torran couldn't really comprehend doing something like that in his grief and rage but then he remembered Rickard Karstark. That man had sworn a vow to his king not to kill prisoners, let alone children and he broke it because of what happened to his sons.

"And if their children want revenge?"

"They are welcome to try," Nymeria said softly. "Just because we hate the Lannister's doesn't mean that someone didn't love them. If any of the survivors want to have their vengeance, they will have to take it."

"And when does it end, Nymeria?"

"When it has to."

* * *

 

Lysa knew that they were going to kill her. They were going to kill her and her boy, Petyr's boy. Her father had already done it once when he forced her to drink Tansy. The lords here had given her false courtesies but she saw right through them. Somehow, they had found out about her deed of killing Jon Arryn. Poor Petyr had been killed by those gods be damned snake fuckers, claiming that he was trying to kidnap her niece.

He was most likely trying to save her from them, She thought with a sigh. Her Petyr was so brave.

"Mother, what has happened to cousin Harry?"

Lysa turned to her little Robert and smiled.

"He's just sleeping," She said of the dead man on the floor. "He was just so tired and after he drank his wine. You know how that is."

Her son didn't question her, he just came to sit in her lap. She adjusted her clothes so he could drink from her breast. She closed her eyes when he latched on with a sigh. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"Sweetrobin, would you like to go flying with mummy?"

"Through the door, mother?" Her son said around her nipple. "Where the bad men go?"

"Bad men are coming for us sweetling," Lysa responded, squeezing her son tightly. "We must escape and that is the only way."

Her son flailed slightly and Lysa loosened her grip.

"When we go sweetling we will be safe," She was sure that she could hear the men and their dogs coming. "No one will hurt us."

"But I'm a lord," Robert whined, pulling away from his mother. "They cannot hurt me."

"But they will," Lysa insisted, but her son was belligerent.

"I'll make all of them fly!" He shouted, shaking his fists at the sky. Lysa felt her eyes sting with tears as she reached for one of the cups on the table.

"Drink this Robin," She held out the cup with a shaky hand. This was the only way since they didn't have much time. "It will make you strong, and no one will hurt you."

Her son eagerly drank from the cup, trusting her word as he always did. The door that she barred was being smashed from the other side. Soon they would break through it.

"Mother," Her son slurred reaching for her and she sobbed, pulling him close. "Muh-" His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he said no more.

She picked up her son and ran for the Moon Door. She opened the hatch and the wind howled at her. The bar had broke and people came in quickly, swords drawn.

"Lady Lysa, stop right there!"

Lysa didn't bother to look behind her, she just closed her eyes and jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say how difficult it is to write Lysa and her son? That's probably the only part I struggled with this chapter.


	26. Chapter 26

**Third Day, Second Month, 299 AL**

"We're leaving soon brother," Jon said, hand on the Weirwood tree. "Quentyn has succeeded in gaining the hand of Daenerys Targaryen. He has requested that we join him as soon as possible. We'll be bringing the proof we gathered from you. If she doesn't listen then we'll have to figure something else out."

There was a beat of silence.

"No that will never be part of the discussion," Jon said harshly. "You and your men have fought too long and too hard for your independence. If she wants submission she will not get it."

"In the old days, talking to a tree would have seen you stoned in the streets," Sansa's voice drifted his way. He glanced over his shoulder, and seeing her smiling at him. He gave her a small smile in return.

“I'll speak with you later Robb.” Jon murmured to the tree and took his hand off of it. “Is everyone ready?”

“Yes,” She replied softly, smile starting to dip. “Oberyn is finishing the final preparations then he will join you.”

“He was told that he didn't need to come,” Jon replied. “Quentyn would be happy enough to receive Torran, Nymeria, and myself.”

“But as Oberyn pointed out, all of you are less likely to die if you have a Prince of Dorne with you.” Sansa countered. “Even with both you and Torran being princes by marriage, it is not enough.”

What she was leaving out, though Jon knew was her worry, was that the last time someone from the North went to see a Targaryen, none in their party survived. Now that included her brothers and her husband, who was also the father of her unborn child. She hadn't said it out loud but Jon could see the signs. It was early yet, and she probably didn't want people to know that she was with child.

He kept quiet about it though, but he was happy for her.

“Nothing will happen to him or us,” Jon murmured. “By all accounts, Daenerys Targaryen is willing to listen to what we have to say.”

She gave him an unimpressed look, but said nothing. Those that were leaving with them had come to join them, along with those that were saying goodbye. Rebekah was crying rivers of tears even though both Torran and Nymeria were comforting her. Oberyn went to Sansa and gave her a kiss, one hand rubbing at her stomach absently. So he knew too.

Jon put that out of his mind as he walked towards his own wife. She stared up at him sadly even as he kissed her forehead.

“I am coming back to you,” He swore. “No dragon girl is going to keep me from you or our child.”

“I know,” She murmured. “That is not what I am worried about.”

She was worried about them coming back empty handed. They were all worried about coming back empty handed. They needed the dragons just as much as they needed Dragonglass in the fight to come. Jon just hoped that they wouldn't need to give up too much in return.

Sansa and Arya both went to the tree, standing next to one another. Both moved their hands in complex patterns before they separated, each making a pulling motion. The trunk of the tree began to open and widen until there was an archway.

If Jon and Torran's basic powers gifted to them from the old gods involved being feral warriors with strength that many people couldn't hope to possess, their sisters were the guardians of the pathways. It was their job to make sure that no one walked through the pathways without their say so. A few wights had attempted it, one Walker almost got through. Both of his sisters had stopped all attempts though Arya nearly lost her fight with the Walker.

Gendry walked with the muzzled wight that Robb had caught and sent through the tree for proof. It snarled at them and fought against the restraints. Gendry gave it a punch in the back of the head. It did nothing but Jon was sure it made Gendry feel better.

“Do your duty bear bitch,” Jon heard Torran say and he glanced at him. His brother was grinning slightly as he hugged Dacey Mormont.

“Try not to die wolf shit,” She gave him a kiss on the cheek as they pulled away from each other. Theon came over to him and they exchanged a wordless hug. Eventually, it was time to leave. Torran gripped the Wight's chains and guided it to the archway. They all walked through it silently, Oberyn leading the way with a torch. Arya and Sansa closed the archway after they were all through.

* * *

 

It had felt like hours after they had walked to the other end of their destination. Oberyn saw the opening and the people on the other side.

“Hail!” He called out.

“Hail!” They called back. Well, two of them did. Both looked similar to one another and had the look of the Free Cities about them, save for the grey eyes that marked their northern heritage.

“Prince Oberyn?” The woman spoke up.

“Aye,” He replied, stepping out of the arch way. “Who might you be?”

“Tilly Longstark, daughter of Durin and descendant of Torrhen,” The woman replied firmly. “This is my cousin Colys Starkwater, son of Raymen.” The large man next to her nodded once at him.

“Well then,” Oberyn began, taking note of his nephew's awed expression along with that of his countrymen. “Allow me to introduce my daughter Princess Nymeria. Her husband Prince Torran and my other good son prince Jonnen. Both are descendants of King Torrhen Stark.”  
Tilly and her cousin flicked their eyes to Jon and Torran, assessing them. Oberyn knew that his good sons were doing the same even if he couldn't see them.

“Nephew,” Oberyn called out to Quentyn who finally stopped gaping long enough to look at him. “Where is your intended?” Since he could not see the long silver locks of Valyria, he assumed that she was waiting for them.

Quentyn cleared his throat, “She is in our camp not too far from here.” He replied. “I told her that it would be best if familiar faces greeted you.”

That she seemingly latched on to this idea without much protest meant that she wasn't willing to greet them right away. She probably agreed with Quentyn's idea in the hopes of making them more amenable.

Clever girl, he thought. Not clever enough however. The two sellswords in front of him each drew a sharp breath. Stone and Ghost had come to sniff at them. Both wolves had deemed them worthy enough to pet them which both did with nothing short of awe on their faces. So much so that they didn't ask what was in the bags that each wolf carried on their backs.

“Is that it uncle?” Quentyn asked him with a slight nod towards the direction of the Wight.

“Aye,” Torran answered instead. “You need to put it somewhere safe until a demonstration could be had.” Oberyn eyed the wight as Torran handed it over to a few of the Dornish soldiers that had accompanied Quentyn. It still struggled as best as it could, but Valyrian steel chains were not easy to break. The soldiers herded the thing away and Torran spoke again.

“Do not remove its muzzle or chains,” He said, coming to stand beside him. “You don't want it to bite you or scratch you.”

“What would happen if it did?” One of the soldiers turned back to ask.

“I don't know, but I rather not risk infecting the camp if it could be helped. I came here on a diplomatic mission after all.”

Oberyn almost smirked at the otherwise cheeky reply but a sound made him look up. He felt the blood leave his face at what he saw.

“By the gods,” He muttered as he watched three dragons circling over head. One let out a roar and the others followed before they flew off. “They're a lot bigger then you said they were.” He said somewhat accusingly to his nephew.

Quentyn flashed him a tight smile, “They grow bigger by the day.” He replied clearly unhappy with that particular bit of information. “Come, you must be tired and you should rest.”

Oberyn shared a look with the others that came with him. All knew that Dragons could grow quickly but it seemed that these three would be bigger than the ones that came with the Conquest of five kingdoms in time.

“We would like that nephew,” Oberyn eventually said, following after Quentyn as he lead the way. He heard the others follow right behind. He turned back as he heard the tree they came through start to shift back to its original shape. He sighed, pray for us my loves, he thought to himself.

* * *

 

Daenerys didn't know what to think of them. Physically they were beautiful. So far they had been coldly polite to her. The former bastards at least. The others were just polite but they didn't give her much to gauge their personalities. They didn't even do more than glance at her son as he slept in his cot.

She listened quietly as they told her the status of the Seven Kingdoms. Or Five she thought, since the North thought themselves independent and Dorne was a tenuous ally at best. One that could withstand any invasion or deceive their opponents into thinking they had won, before they struck. Her ancestors had learned that the hard way.

They told her of how the Riverlands were recovering from the effects of the Western invasion. How the Vale was embroiled in civil war due to there being no clear path to an heir for the Eyrie, with both known heirs dead as can be.

Ser Jaime winced when he found out that his sister was killed by bandits and that his father was dying. The West was in a tizzy because of these incidents. The Iron Islands rebelled still but they mostly kept to themselves now, since they couldn't gain much ground on the mainland.

The Crownlands had known peace for sometime since the Reign of King Tommen, the Usurper's true born son. She wasn't sure what made her more upset, that the boy was doing a good job or that another Baratheon sat on the throne. One that was made by and for her family.

What made her pause was the supposed threats beyond the Wall, though evidence was presented. She even had her own men test the validity of it being a reanimated corpse. She sent Ser Jaime to remove its head. When it still moved and tried to attack she was told that only fire could kill it. So she had it put to the torch.

“There is an army of those things and the Long Night is upon us.” Prince Oberyn was winding down from his explanation. “Regardless of whether you join your strength to ours, we will still place you on the Iron Throne. I would ask you to consider helping us however, for if we fail, we all die.”

Her dragons, that was what they really wanted but they were willing to work with her overall. She looked at each of them, looking for falsehood and hostilities. She could not find any and it was beginning to frustrate her.

Especially whens she looked to the man with the muddied purple eyes and muddied black hair. He was the epitome of the North from the descriptions she had been given as well as Old Valyria. But she had no idea as to how he was possible. Ser Barristan knew more if the look on his face said anything, and Ser Jaime knew something but they weren't telling her.

“You all have given me a lot to think about,” She said slowly, calmly. “I will have to confer with my advisers.”

Her guests nodded and took their leave from her tent.

“Sers,” She said to the knights in her employ. She trusted neither of them fully but she promised to listen to them. “What do you think?”  
Quentyn stayed quiet at her side for which she was grateful. She knew that he would probably take offense at what was stated and would defend his family.

“You have seen the proof your grace,” Ser Barristan said calmly. “They need our help.”

“But you shouldn't content yourself with less kingdoms than you are owed,” Ser Jorah put in. “Your family ruled over Seven Kingdoms, not six.”

She knew that, she had to hear it all the time as her brother ranted and raved about his claim. She also remembered his ranting about how she was a mistake and how their father was a great man.

“The call to war cannot be ignored your grace,” Ser Jaime said quietly. Out of all of them, she trusted him the least even though he had been with them for months. “You must help the Northerners.”

“And do you think that I should let the North go?” She demanded of him.

“I think the only way for you to gain control of it is if you killed everyone there, and placed your own people in charge.” His voice was still quiet but his tone was serious.

“I have no intention of killing anyone,” Not yet she added in her mind. There was a chance she would need too in the future but for now she would wait.

“Then you must let them go, or gain an alliance with them if you cannot gain their fealty.”

“Her grace should not have to give up her birthright,” Ser Jorah argued.

“You do realize that if she does so she would have to kill your own family,” Quentyn finally spoke up then, giving the older man a raised eyebrow. “The North is now unified under the Starks completely since their rivals were removed.”

“Enough, I thank you all for your input.” Daenerys was starting to get a headache and she did not want there to be any loud arguments. Her son shifted in his cot, signaling that he would wake from his nap. “Prince Quentyn, take Ser Jorah with you to entertain your family.” She instructed them both as she went to pick up her son. Both men bowed to her and left though she didn't pay them much mind.

Rhaego blinked sleepily at her, “Mama,” He yawned and cuddled into her. She smiled before pursing her lips and turned to the two remaining knights.

“I have one more piece of the puzzle to decipher before I make any commitments,” She told them stroking her sons back. “Prince Jonnen is a mystery to me and I would know just how he came to exist. You two seem to know something, so out with it.”

Ser Barristan looked over to Ser Jaime who only looked at him blankly. After a moment, the Lannister Knight tilted his head in her direction.

Ser Barristan sighed, “As strange as this sounds your grace,” He began slowly, reluctantly. “But I believe that Prince Jonnen Martell may be your brother's son by the Lady Lyanna of House Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the lack of updates. I will strive to lessen the break between each chapter but I can't promise that. The next chapter will be from Jaime's POV to explain just how he ended up where he did.


	27. Chapter 27

Jaime had to admire how relatively simple the campers lived their lives. No servants to wait on them hand and foot. No keep or lands to up hold. Nothing gaudy or ostentatious. A simple life, one that suited him perfectly. One that he wanted with Cersei, but one that he couldn't have.

As selfish as he was when he began this new journey, he knew that leaving his brother was the right decision. For him and his family. Poor Tyrion had been beside himself when he had broken the news.

“Jamie, you don't know how to survive out here,” He had protested. “The laws and people are different.”

Neither of the two Knights that came with them protested, seeing how serious he was being.

“I am not welcomed in Westeros any longer little brother,” Jaime had told him. “My staying away will not hinder house Lannister, it will strengthen it.”

The argument that followed was very unpleasant and lasted well into the night. When his brother had tired and gone to sleep, Jaime hastily wrote him and their father separate letters, leaving them with Bronn.

The former sellsword had given him another bag of gold – to add to the three he already had- and told him to watch his back.

“Your brother wasn't lying when he said this side of the world was different, you'll need it.”

Jaime had never been more grateful for the mans presence, especially the effect it had on his brother. Ser Davos had not stopped him but he did give Jaime a look of respect and even a respectful nod.

Within the first week of his journey, Jaime had wondered if he had made the right decision. He had no idea where he was going or why. Eventually he settled down just outside of Andalos, with a small settlement of people.

There he had engaged in a few fights for coin since the journey there had depleted enough of his money for him to be concerned. He had won enough times that the people there admired him for his skill. It was a nice feeling to admired for the good he could do as opposed to what he did in his youth or what his father wanted out of life for him.

He fought back a grimace as a small child ran past him, chasing a young mule. He couldn't believe that his father, strongest of the family, was dying from an unknown illness. Jaime suspected foul play but he considered that maybe one of fathers enemies had finally had enough. He also knew that as much as he loved him, his father had done enough to deserve it.

The Lion will fall, the dark words echoed in his mind as he thought back to the day he had been told them. He would have to write his brother soon and aid him in making sure the Pride of Lions did not follow.

“Ser Jaime!” A voice called out to him. He saw that insufferable Longstark woman waving at him. He almost dismissed her, but then he saw who she was with and made his way over.

“So, my lion,” Longstark purred at him. “Have you finally decided to stop foolishly ignoring me?”

“Ignoring you like the plague you are is not foolish but a sign of good mental health,” He snarked back and she let out a loud laugh, not offended in the least. Her cousin gave him a baleful look but his lips twitched so Jaime knew that he wasn't that upset.

“I sense a story here, Ser Jaime,” Prince Oberyn gave him a smirk, one that could be considered friendly but neither he nor Oberyn had been friendly in years so Jaime was wary.

“Sit down lover, join our game,” The bane of his existence said and he rolled his eyes.

“As nice as that would be, I am here to retrieve prince Jonnen,” The young man in question gave him a flat look. “Her grace wishes to speak with him – privately.”

The flat look remained but a certain kind of fire entered the princes eyes.

“I will go with him,” Quentyn offered as the jovial air all but disappeared.

“The queen-” Jamie began before being cut off.

“Will understand,” Quentyn said firmly, eyes boring into his.

“I will go with Quentyn,” Jonnen Martell said flatly. “Take my place Lannister, and don't lose.” The young man stood and walked around the table. He pulled off a band from his head and gave it to Jaime. Quentyn joined him, leaving his band on the table and they both walked towards the tent of the young Queen.

Ser Jorah took after them with a huff and didn't bother to wait for him but he left his band behind as well.

“Sit down Ser Jaime,” He turned back to who spoke. It was Prince Torran that spoke, grey eyes piercing through him. One of his hands covered a bowl that had bronze ingots of varying sizes in it. The prince placed it in front of him. “The game is uneven.”

It wasn't a request nor was it debatable if the look he was given was any indication. Jaime sat down slowly, an action that would have earned him a disapproving glare from his father along with a comment about Lion's not bowing to wolves or their bastards.

Prince Torran regarded him quietly, “Its blind man's bluff – do you know how to play?” He said after a moment.

“I'm sure I can learn,” Of course Jaime knew how to play and a big part in playing was to make people underestimate you. A good way to do that was to play stupid.

“Colys,” Prince Torran said quietly and the large sellsword dealt them all a card each. Jaime placed the band on his head and tucked his card into it without looking at what he was given. He glanced around the table see what the others had.

The only one that gave him pause was Prince Oberyn, he had a red king.

“Tell me Jaime, how did this come to be?” Oberyn waved his hand to the surrounding area.

“Its a long story, good prince-”

“We brought him here,” Longstark interrupted him. He gave her a scowl as she continued. “I saw him him in Andalos, where he fought for money. I knew who he was based on the dealings that the company had in the West. We both built a rapport and though the night that followed was pleasurable, it did have to end.”

“You drugged me,” Jaime drawled. “You pretended to be my friend, fucked me, and you drugged me. Then you brought me here through a magical tree where I almost died. Don't try to pretend that it was anything more than that.” He took a few ingots from his bowl and placed it in front of him.

“I did say I was sorry,” Longstark sighed and matched his bet even though she had two black daggers. “That night and everyday after that, for whatever it was worth.”

If Jaime actually cared, he might have believed her. Still, it was always going to be a sore point between them.

“Why did you bring him here?” Prince Torran spoke again, this time to Tilly.

“Believe it or not, its your fault.” Longstark said bluntly. “You told me to help Quentyn get in to the Queen's good graces. What better way to do that then bring him here?” She nodded at Jaime. “The Queen was pretty upset when he was presented though.”

“Then why are you alive?” The prince narrowed his eyes at him. Jaime noticed that they shifted in color briefly then back to grey before responding.

“It was touch and go for a moment,” He glared at Longstark who sighed again and almost rolled her eyes. As if she had any right to do so – she almost got him killed! “The Queen wanted my head and only Ser Barristan spoke on my behalf. He is one of the few people who understood why I did what I did all those years ago, even if he didn't agree with it.

“Neither the Queen nor anyone could come up with a reason to do anything with me even though they argued quite a lot. In the end, their choices were taken out of their hands when Drogon, the black dragon, came up to me, took a sniff and licked my face.” Jaime rubbed at his face, the memory of the blistering heat and prickly tongue that almost left him with blisters coming back to his mind.

“Licked your face,” Oberyn said slowly, giving Jaime an incredulous look. Jaime just shrugged.

“They're like cats – all three of them.” He said in reference to the dragons. “They like who they like, do what they want and no one can really tell them no, except the Queen. Then again she is their mother.” Even if they don't always listen to her. He thought.

“Queen Daenerys was amenable enough to listen to me after that,” Jaime gave the younger Prince a cool stare. “I may not be gifted with a wicked tongue like my brother, but I am not without skill. She listened and had me imprisoned before asking me to join her honor guard.”

“Hmm,” The younger man returned his stare before he added his own bet with his two pitiful red arrows. “My brother Bran sends his condolences and wishes for you to know that he does not hold anything against you – he feels that justice has been served. For all the realms.”

Jaime stared in surprise for a moment.

“You don't share your brothers sentiments, do you?” Jaime asked quietly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“It doesn't matter what I think, what's done is done. Your sister is no longer amongst the living and your father will join her sometime from now. Whatever feelings I have are irrelevant.” The young prince paused . “Do you plan on staying in her guard or will you bring the Western Lords to heel once we return?”

“I gave up my claim to the Rock - twice. My brother will rule instead. I never wanted to be a lord, I only wanted to be a knight.” And to be with the woman I love, he thought. It had come time to reveal their cards and Jaime had the weakest card with a simple black crown and prince Oberyn won with his king.

Colys took the cards back and shuffled the deck before dealing another hand in silence. Jaime was grateful for the sudden quiet surrounding their table.

* * *

 

Tyrion looked at his father as he wheezed for what may be his final moments. He looked terrible and Tyrion wondered how he had lasted this long.

“You must think this is funny,” Tywin Lannister coughed. “To see me like this.”

“I take no joy in seeing you die, father.” Tyrion wanted many things from his father or to happen to him – death wasn't one of them.

Tywin snarled before succumbing to a coughing fit. Tyrion helped him drink a cup of water.

“Why did you want to see me alone father? Besides the usual interaction we have of course.”

Tywin coughed again, “I know that you expect the Rock, thinking it is your birthright-”

“It is, I am your only son-” Tyrion interjected but his father gripped his tunic with surprising strength and yanked him forward .

“You are no son of mine,” Tywin hissed in fury. “You are a monster that murdered my wife.” The old lord wheezed again and fell back onto his pillow.

“That is where you are wrong, father,” Tyrion said with thinly veiled contempt. “I have always been your son – you were just too blind to see it.”

“I took away any rights you had to Casterly Rock,” Tywin breathed out, having not heard him. “You won't get it creature.”

“Oh I know all about the letter you gave to Tommen,” Tyrion shrugged and his father stared in disbelief. “But you forgot to name a successor when you wrote it. Your sickness clearly dulled your sharp mind otherwise you wouldn't have missed that. Which is why I suggested an heir that is perfect for the lordship.”

“You dare-”

“My son Logan will be the new Lord for the Westerlands to follow,” Tyrion continued, ignoring the sputtering from his father. “He is the son of my first wife, Tysha. And though she wants nothing to do with me, she has agreed to let Logan take up his birthright as long as he is protected.”

It didn't surprise Tyrion in the slightest when he read his former wife's response. He had contributed to her pain after all. Tyrion eyed his father who shuddered for breath.

“I have a feeling that Logan will be fantastic as Warden of the West. I'm told that he is a very bright boy, no surprise really, he is my son after all. He was raised in a somewhat simple lifestyle, but I know that he'll be great because he wasn't poisoned by you and Cersei. Both of you would have filled his head with nonsense that would have been detrimental to someone like him.

“In truth father, I must thank your illness – it granted me the opportunity to place my son in the proper position. Of course, when the King announces it to court, I will be named acting Lord of the Rock until my son is ready. It is not the same thing as being the real lord but I digress.”

Tyrion glared as his father took in his last breath, “In short, father, I win. Say hello to mother for me if you see her.”


	28. Chapter 28

“King Mance,” Robb said coldly to the other man. He eyed the fifteen Wildlings that accompanied the so called King Beyond the Wall. They eyed him and his men in return.

“King Robb,” The Wildling drawled. “Brothers.” He said to the former members of the Night's Watch with a nod. They hissed in unison. Robb raised his hand to quiet them.

“Have you decided on what course you wish to take?” Robb interjected before things could get out of hand.

“If I agree to this, I won't have to kneel and neither will my people?”

“Only if any of them go south of the Wall and into my territory,” Robb replied, watching as a few people snorted or shifted in their place. “I will not put my people in jeopardy by letting your people run amok in my kingdom. They are welcomed there as long as they behave...and lay down any arms they have.”

“Piss on that!” One red haired giant of a man snarled.

“Tormund!” Mance Rayder said sharply. The other man huffed at him but said nothing more. “That....is acceptable King Robb. I doubt many of my brothers and sisters will take you up on your kind offer.”

That makes no difference to me, Robb thought but he nodded in understanding.

“I have a request,” Mance Rayder said suddenly, an odd look on his face.

“If it is within reason, I will grant it.” Robb replied with a raise eyebrow.

“My wife, my queen, she is with child.” King Mance said softly. “I would see her away from here.”

Robb cocked his head to the side in thought. It wasn't a terrible request the issue would be where to put her, and if she wanted to leave at all.

“How far away do you want her?”

“As far as possible.”

Robb thought for a second and came to the only conclusion he could think of.

“If you are agreeable, your wife and anyone who wishes to travel with her, can leave with my brother and his wife to Dorne after they get here.”

“Dorne will suffice,” Rayder nodded softly. “When does your brother get here?”

“Now.” Robb turned his head to the side to stare at the fresh Weirwood tree that had sprouted up days before thanks to Sansa and Arya's care. It shifted to the archway and those that didn't know that it could do that gasped and stepped back. All except for Mance Rayder who stepped forward.

“By the gods,” He gasped one hand coming up to try and touch the tree though he wasn't close enough to do so. He stopped though when a large, dark grey Direwolf hauling bags on its back stepped out of the opening. He slowly moved away but the wolf paid him no mind. It was followed by two young men and a young woman.

The oldest male eyed him with narrowed grey eyes and a small smile.

“Rayder.”

Mance startled, “Is that wee Torran I see,” He said with disbelief. “By the gods you're enormous!”

Torran raised an eyebrow, “The last time you saw me Rayder I was but a young boy. Time tends to make healthy young boys grow big and strong. Unless...” He looked down at himself before turning to the lone female. “My cock isn't hanging out is it love? Even if it is I doubt it would be as enormous as Rayder claims. Its fucking freezing after all.”

Tormund roared out a laugh at Torran's words and Mance couldn't help but chuckle. Several people laughed as well which helped with the tension that had built.

“Don't worry my love, your cock is warm in your trousers, I don't think it could survive anything less.” The woman drawled with a slight smirk. Dornish, Mance thought. She's a long way from home.

“So, King beyond the Wall hmm?” Torran addressed Mance, looking him up and down. “You've come along way from being a deserter.” Neither he nor his group waited for a response as they made their way to Robb. Torran removed his sword and plunged it into the ground. The boy, Podrick had done the same. The woman didn't bother as all three knelt in front of Robb.

“Your Grace.” They said to derisive snorts from the Wildlings. Robb gestured for them to stand and they did. Robb stared at Torran for a long moment.

“You look like shit.” He said bluntly. Torran raised his eyebrows.

“Well I've nearly been eaten by dragons, nearly burned by some fire loving religious fanatics, and had to deal with some rather depressing news.” Torran shot back before he added mockingly, “What have you had to deal with besides a cold draft and some gods be damned Wildlings?”

No one said anything and some even shifted uncomfortably. 'Fucking Southerners' a Wildling muttered. Dragon's, Mance thought with a frown, what an odd thing to say. Robb's face split into a grin and Torran wheezed out a laugh.

 

“Good to see ya you cheeky fucker,” Torran boomed out and scooped Robb up into a hug as they both laughed.

“Its been too long.” Robb said when Torran put him down. The last time he spoke to either Torran or Jon had been almost a fortnight ago when they left to speak with Daenerys Targaryen. It had been over a year since they had seen each other in person.

“My wife, Princess Nymeria,” Torran gestured to the woman who kissed Robb's cheek in greeting.

“Your grace.”

“My lady,” Robb nodded before turning to the final person. “And who might you be?”

“Freezing your grace,” The lad said through gritted teeth. “But I'm mostly known as Ser Podrick, Ser Podrick Sunfyre. Sworn sword and shield to House Martell of Sunspear and when Lady Jordayne passes, house Martell of the Tor.”

As far as Mance knew there was no house of Sunfyre but he would question them later.

“Will the Dragon Queen aide us?” Robb asked them quickly.

“Three fire breathing beasties and whatever soldiers she can get will help us. She wants the Throne first but that shouldn't be a problem.”

“What else did she want,” Robb asked grimly.

“Nothing from you if that is what you're worried about.” Torran replied softly. “For now, I think we should focus on the matter at hand.”

As much as he would like to protest, Robb knew that he couldn't postpone this meeting any longer. He nodded his head.

“So, King Mance,” Torran shuffled over to his Direwolf and retrieved something from one of the bags. He held a glass sphere with blue liquid in it aloft and grinned. “Do you like fireworks?” He asked the Wildling.

* * *

  
“Did I make the right decision?” Quentyn looked over to his intended then winced when Rhaego managed to catch him in the eye with his little bean bag. Rhaego laughed while Quentyn covered his throbbing eye. “Rhaego, no! You don't laugh at something like that.” Daenerys scolded her son who stared at her blankly, not understanding why she was upset. She picked him up and continued to scold him.

“Its alright,” Quentyn smiled, rubbing at his eye. “It was an accident. Now, you were saying?”

“Did I make the right decision,” Daenerys held Rhaego close to her like a life line. “Did I make the right decision in demanding the first born girl of my nephew be wed to my son?”

On the one hand, this demand had strained the relationship that could have built naturally between her and Jon. On the other hand, it would potentially stop any doubts that Jon was firmly on her side and gave up any rights to the Throne in favor of her taking it.

The marriage between Daenerys and himself will ensure some measure of peace between the Iron Throne and Dorne. The marriage between Rhaego and whatever girl that Jon and Tyene have will potentially stop any rebellions in Jon's name. Even the North would hesitate to do more than travel outside of their borders to the South. Robb Stark wouldn't want any of his kin harmed for any reason.

Quentyn sighed, “What's done is done.” He moved closer to her and placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. Rhaego placed a tiny hand over his and stared at Daenerys with a smile. She smiled back at them both. “This agreement is for the benefit of both families. It should strengthen us all.”

“But Jonnen – Jon – doesn't agree. I think he despises me now.”

“He doesn't care much for politics, no, but he doesn't want there to be any conflict. I think he wishes there was another way. When this is all over, he and his wife may come to live in the Crownlands to keep an eye on their daughter.”

Daenerys said nothing but Rhaego decided to have his moment.

“Mama,” He said before patting Quentyn's hand. “Dada.”

The smile that had formed on the Dragon Queen's face had become rather fixed. Quentyn was shocked and started to pull his hand away. He had always been hesitant around her, knowing that she loved another and that Rhaego was always going to be one of her top priorities. He would not over step his boundaries after working for months just to get her to trust him and in turn, his family.

Rhaego's chubby hand clamped down onto his, “Dada,” He said as insistently as any babe could. His purple eyes were earnest and silently pleading. Quentyn knew that he was about to break this little boys heart.

“Rhaego,” Quentyn began quietly.

“It's fine Quentyn,” Daenerys said with a blank look, taking the decision out of his hands. “You are to be my husband, and by extension, Rhaego's stepfather. That he has accepted you now is only a sign that our union won't soon be plagued with resentment from him.”

“But not from you,” He hadn't meant to say the words out loud and he snapped his mouth shut.

She turned to him and smiled softly though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Shifting Rhaego just a little into one arm, she placed one free hand to his cheek.

“I don't think I could resent you Quentyn,” She said softly. “But I don't think I can love you – not yet. I need time. Drogo-” She paused and sighed sadly. “Though there were times that he and his ways frightened me, he did love me and I loved him. I cannot forget so easily.”

“I understand,” Quentyn took her hand with his free one and gave it a kiss. “Truly I do.”

One doesn't forgot their first love after all, He thought.

* * *

 

“They won't win like this,” Torrhen didn't bother to look at the person who spoke. “Not without my help.”

“Your help,” The king who knelt started sarcastically. “is neither wanted nor is it needed. If it were the old gods would have left you where you were instead of forcing you to move on to the afterlife.”

“I can still talk with them,” Brynden Rivers insisted.

“So you can try and convince my kin to take your place as a fucking tree,” Torrhen snarled turning to face the Targaryen bastard. “Or so you can try to convince them that it is necessary for them to die to end it all?!”

“Only death can pay for life,” Brynden Rivers snarled back and he wished he hadn't. Torrhen had closed the distance between them and punched Brynden in the throat with all his strength. As he lay there grasping for breath, Torrhen spoke calmly while looming over him.

“Just because your precious dragon legacy was broken and now rests on the shoulders of an untrained girl, does not give you leave to destroy an eight thousand year legacy. The Starks or rather the North as a whole, are strong even if you Southron cunts don't understand us and our people. Those young ones will win – by any means necessary and they won't need you to do it, Dragonspawn.”

I have already taught them all that I know, but it would be my fucking luck that they win the Southron way, Torrhen thought darkly as he walked away from the sputtering sack of shit that had once been the most powerful magic user in all of Westeros.


	29. Chapter 29

Podrick had been grateful for when they finally decided to leave the Wall four weeks after they arrived. Torran had told him to wrap up warm twice over since Pod had never been anywhere North of the Southern Riverlands. His balls had almost fallen off at how cold it was.

His princess had taken the cold weather in stride but then again he knew that her husband kept her warm at night. Pod had no one to do so...at first. Now he had a wife, a Wildling Spearwife at that. The ancestors of his former family must be rolling in their graves he had thought with a slight smile.

Holly Halfspear had been her name before their marriage. A marriage that had only happened after they had sparred one night, like any other night that they sparred. He remembered the first time she had been taunting him while he struck a practice dummy, telling him that he needed a real challenge.

“But then again you Southerners have always been flowery cunts – afraid of anything that might damage your pretty faces and your pride.”  
They had been the only two in the yard with the others either resting or going over battle plans. Podrick couldn't sleep and he was bored in most of those meetings so he asked to be excused. Hearing the words from Holly had made him stiffen but he ignored her taunting for as long as he could.

“Never pick a fight if you can but sometimes, you just need to punch the other fucker in the mouth,” Those words had been Torran's advice after he was free to drop the act of Alystar Borrsen and he heeded them. When he sparred with Holly, he had only hesitated briefly which gave her the chance to land what would have been a fatal blow had they actually been fighting.

“Never give your opponent a chance to hurt you, even if they are a woman,” Nymeria had told him when she wished to view his progress not so long ago. He had hesitated and she had knocked him on to his backside and given him a bloodied lip for his trouble. “A knight is chivalrous, true, but a knight must also be ready to attack lest he dies when he needn't have. When you engage another warrior, even just to spar, give them your undivided attention. If they don't respect you, do not disrespect their potential talent – especially a woman. Women have to work twice as hard in most cases just to get by, if she is a warrior, even more so. If you give them a chance to win, they will take it regardless of your feelings or honor.”

Podrick decided not to give Holly another chance and engaged her again. That was the first of many times they had sparred. Every time she fought with her broken spear that had fur wadded up at one end and he fought with a club. Some who had seen them spar said that they were pretty evenly matched as far as their willingness to keep fighting went. Their fighting styles were too different to say who was more skilled of the two.

One night, she had given as good as she could take but Podrick got lucky and swept her feet out from under her.

He straddled her, placing the club under her chin and against her throat.

“Yield,” He had told her, panting for breath. She narrowed her eyes at him but nodded as best as she could.

“I yield,” She murmured with a nasty smile. “Now finish it.”

He had frowned before he began to get off of her. She yanked him back down after bemoaning the fact that he was from the South and kissed him. Now he had kissed his fair share of girls but Holly had kissed him like none other. Her kiss was full of passion and raw need.  
He had suggested that they go someone more private before he carried her to his room. He of course knew that she was dangerous but he hadn't really brought himself to care in that moment. Their sparing had gotten his blood up, and he could tell that she felt the same way especially since she hadn't protested to the idea of leaving with him. He had made a mental note to deal with whatever happened because of his decision.

Of course, he hadn't expected to be told that he was now her husband since he 'stole' her. He had no idea what that meant until it was explained that since he claimed her that night, she was now his per Free Folk traditions. Initially he started to refuse but King Robb had told him that to the Free Folk, the marriage was binding unless one of them died. That she was the Queen's younger sister meant that she was tentatively their princess as well and the people may not take kindly to him not acknowledging his marriage.

“I was hoping to explain this to you in my own time,” Holly informed him when they were finally alone. “But some fucking rat saw us and told my sister. I am not sorry for being your wife even if the fuckers around here don't like it. You bested me that night and made me your woman. That's how it is with my people. If I have to marry ye again in the Southern way then I'll do it. But don't make me start wearing dresses or I will geld you.”

What could he say to that really? Torran pulled him aside at some point afterward to offer his congratulations and a warning.

“I know you hadn't planned on taking a wife but this is the situation that you've been given,” His mentor said. “Rayder's rule is tenuous at best. The only reason they follow him now is because he has a plan. A lot of the Free Folk don't like the idea of there being a king ruling over them but enough of them will follow him. If you refuse your wife, those that want him gone could use that as one reason to kill him and his wife. We don't need any dissent right now.”

In truth Holly wasn't a terrible person but there were times where she was confrontational and challenging. It frustrated him because he wasn't sure what he had done to upset her at but he knew better than to complain. It was a learning experience for them both after all. Podrick was tested at every turn and not just from his wife but her family as well.

“So you gave up on your family when you became a knight,” His sister by law and Queen of the Wildlings asked him one day. “Is that something you southerners do often?”

“I did not make my decision lightly, your grace.” Podrick said as calmly as he could. It still hurt to know that his family had all but forgotten him. He shouldn't have been surprised really, he came from a lesser branch of house Payne and his mother had abandoned him after his father died. “But my uncle Kurtis agreed to it since there were enough people to carry on the family name.”

“And how did you come by the name Sunfyre good Ser?” She had said his title as if it was a great offense but Podrick brushed it off.

“The first weapon I ever tended to was a mace made of Dragon bone. It's name was Sunfyre, named after the the Dornish sun and dragon of the same name. I took that name in honor of my mentor who had done more for me than anyone else ever did. I owe him more than I could ever hope to repay.”

Podrick knew that they understood being honor bound to someone, even if they didn't like comparing themselves to the south. They let him be after that.

Torran, a voice echoed through out the tunnel, setting the Wildlings on edge.

“Yes, Sansa?” Torran said back.

Maester Aemon doesn’t have much time left, Princess Sansa replied back and Podrick saw his friend frown.

“Damn,” Torran muttered sadly. “We'll be right there. Will the attack happen tonight or tomorrow?”

Tomorrow at first light. Hurry back.

“Tell Jon I will be there as soon as I can.” Torran replied seriously.

* * *

  
Daenerys gently dabbed at her eyes. Maester Aemon had finally moved on after a fever had claimed him. She would miss him and she wished that he had met him sooner. The boy that accompanied him from the Wall lead his Eulogy.

“He was a great man,” Samwell Tarly said through tears and a quivering chin. Jon, who was standing next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder to help lend his support. He had tears in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. “He was a Maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn. He was a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, always faithful. When he was born they named him after the Dragonknight, a hero of his age and Maester Aemon was no different. No other man was wiser, or gentler.” His chin quivered again while a sob broke loose from his throat.

“A-at the Wall, many lord commanders came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. He counseled kings as well. He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them to give it to his brother Aegon.

“Not many men would do that for they are not as selfless. He was the blood of the dragon, and now his fire has gone out.” Another sob came from the boy and Daenerys felt tears roll down her face. She covered her mouth to stop herself from making a sound. “He was Prince Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended.”

“And now his watch has ended.” Several people repeated, herself included despite the catch in her throat. Prince Oberyn took the torch he was holding and placed it at the base of the wood pile. The second the torch touched the chemicals that soaked the wood a brilliant blue fire ignited. Daenerys watched as it danced and licked at the surrounding area, reminded of how she bathed in fire herself.

Her dragons could have done this much more quickly but she decided not to offer them in this case. Her uncle was proud of being a member of the Watch, no matter that it no longer existed or that it caused him great pains at time.

“The gods saw fit to test my vows, none more so than after the War of the Usurper. When the ravens came from the south baring news of what happened. The ruin of my house, the death of my family. What was I to do? I was old and frail and blind. But when I heard of what they did to my grandnephew, and his son...and the children! Even the little children!”

That was the only time she had seen him be angry but she also saw the raw pain underneath. Even after all this time, he still hurt.  
Hopefully he's at peace now, She thought, still staring into the fire. And tomorrow, he and the others can watch me take back their throne.


	30. Chapter 30

Jorah gave cover to his eyes with one hand to look up into the sky. His Queen, her intended, and her nephew took flight to look over the city, something that didn't sit well with their advisers. All except Prince Torran.

“My brother can take care of himself,” The prince explained all while calmly eating an apple. “And the Queen has to stand on her own two feet from time to time. She's already got enough going against her in the eyes of the common folk and the faith, she doesn't need to be seen as codependent on her advisers.”

He was of course referring to the fact that she was a product of incest and the daughter of the Mad King. The former would not be tolerated by those that were pious to the extreme but would be tempered by the presence of the dragons. The latter would earn her no love from those who remembered her father's tyranny even with the dragons.

“Sit down Ser Jorah, they'll return when they're good and ready.”

Jorah turned to give the prince a gimlet eye, “And who are you to order me around?”

“Someone who doesn't want to see one of the Northmen melt in the sun because he decided to be a mother hen,” The former bastard said with raised brows, a silent challenge. “We have guests to attend to as well.” He hooked a thumb towards their 'guests', the former royal family. Most of which were giving the two of them interested looks, save for Ser Loras Tyrell. He was engaged in conversation with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime.

“I am one of the Northmen now am I?” Jorah asked with skepticism, moving to stand by the table and poured himself a cup of water. “From the looks she gave me, my cousin would disagree.”

“You gave her reason to do so,” Prince Torran shot back. “The North remembers Ser Jorah.”

“Aye, that it does,” Jorah muttered with a scowl, taking a sip of his water. Gods how he wished that there had been more resistance when they took the city. He would at least be doing something useful, instead of being talked down too in front of all these Southerners.

Unfortunately for his mood, their plan on distracting the main force of the Capitol with a small army while bringing the dragons through the Weirwood in the city had worked well. The former Baratheon king had done the smart thing and surrendered when he saw them.

“How do you like your sword, Lord Tommen?” Prince Torran said pleasantly. The younger Baratheon eyed him warily.

“I haven't had to use it in combat yet, and I pray I never have to. I still train with it though.”

“Good, I would hate to see one of my blades go to waste.” Torran said bluntly grabbing another apple.

“One of your blades?” Lady Margaery Baratheon said with raised brows.

“Oh come now my lady, surely you know that I have enough blades to spare. After all, how else would Lord Stannis acquire three different blades for house Baratheon? Although, I am interested to see just what will happen to said house.”

“The Queen gave her word that she wouldn't harm any of us,” Tyrion Lannister reminded him calmly.

“Did I say that she would?” Torran said with a roll of his eye, a move that made Olenna Tyrell snort into her tea. Jorah actually moved to sit in a chair since he was getting tired of standing. “I doubt she plans to go back on her word but she is faced with several issues, Dragonstone amongst them.”

“My brother will bend the knee,” Renly Baratheon assured him. “He is not a fool.”

“I'm sure he will but the problem isn't him – its a matter of housing. Dragonstone traditionally belongs to the Dragons, not the Stags. There's you to deal with as well Lord Renly,” Torran stared at the youngest of Robert's brothers. “Storm's End was never supposed to be yours, all the laws of Westeros say so. And yet, ever since you have been made its lord, your people have not suffered, in fact, they love you. You treat them well, as any lord should, but you also remind them of their place.”

He took a sip from his cup and gave a slight smile to Tommen. It was a smile that Jorah had seen on the face of Rickard Stark once so long ago. It was one of the few times that this boy, nay, Prince, reminded Jorah of Brandon Stark. Torran rode like him, fought like him, and even smirked like him. Jorah never said any of this out loud though, the Prince made it clear that he considered Eddard Stark his father and wouldn't hear another word about it.

“Then there's you to consider,” Torran said to Tommen. “Eldest true borne son of Robert Baratheon, your claim is stronger than both your uncles. Will the Queen displace you in favor of one of them? Will she dispossess you all in favor of another? Whatever faults she has, Daenerys is not stupid and I am intrigued to see how she deals with this mess.”

It irked Jorah that Torran would not recognize Queen Daenerys as such unless he had too. She was the rightful Queen of Westeros, she deserved that much.

“Whatever she decides, we will accept.” Lord Tommen said quietly. You have no choice, Jorah thought.

“Don't worry, she won't be killing any of you,” Torran waved a hand. “She wouldn't to risk starting a war.” Not the one we need, Jorah thought.

“So have you thought of names for your babe?”

Prince Torran had a mischievous smirk on his face, one he shared with his blood father and late aunt. The others in the area were shocked, none more so than the people he asked, Lord Tommen and his wife.

Before anyone could demand answers, Prince Torran's beast arrived with the eunuch spymaster and some people he sent away along with a small, filthy child holding a long wooden box.

“Ah, Lord Varys, were you able to acquire what I asked for?” Torran stood from his chair as he addressed the other man. His voice was pleasant enough, but Jorah caught the underlining anger in the younger man's tone.

“I believe I have,” Varys simpered and waved the child forward. Said child stumbled forward at first, his or her nervousness was there for all to see, but then Prince Torran knelt to be level with the child.

He smiled encouragingly and the child moved with more confidence before thrusting the box towards the Prince. Said prince smiled even more.

“What is your name child?” Prince Torran took the box from the child and placed it on the side.

“I be Lara.” The pale little girl said cheerfully and with very little grasp of the common tongue. Jorah noticed her eyes and stared. They were Stark grey. There was no way that this girl was the daughter of the Prince but he looked at her in wonder.

“A pretty name,” Torran with a sad smile before giving the apple to her. “Did Lord Varys tell you about what's going to happen now?”

Lara furrowed her brow and worried her bottom lip, “Mama, Bash, and me are going to leave our home.” She clutched at the apple tightly.

“Yes sweet girl, my friends will help you get cleaned and they'll take you and your family to a better place, okay?”

“Kay,” Lara still had a furrowed brow but then she smiled. “You look like mama.” She said happily and Torran gave her a happier smile and a nod. Ah, I see it now, Jorah thought.

“Brienne,” Torran murmured. The large woman came over, grasped Lara by the shoulder, and lead her away. When the child was gone, Torran spoke again.

“You have my thanks eunuch.” Torran almost spat the word as he picked up the box and tucked it under his arm. Jorah started to slowly stand from his seat. As he adjusted his stance and grasped the hilt of his sword, he watched his fellow knights. Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime matched his movements. None of them cared about Varys, but they weren't sure as to where this anger came from though Jorah had a pretty good idea.

Ser Loras glanced at his family, sharing a bewildered look with his sister.

“Family is important, I am glad to have helped you with yours.” Varys said with a kind smile. Both Stone and her master growled in unison.

“What of the others?”

“They'll be sent away when they can, you have my word.”

“Then ask your questions, I'll be very busy from here on out.” Torran said bitterly.

“Hmm tell me then, how is it House Stark gained so much Valyrian Steel while the rest of the world has been clamoring for bits and pieces?”

“There have been a lot of merchants and stupid knights that came to the North over the centuries. Some to trade, others to gain a foot hold. House Stark and its loyal Bannermen have always been able to repel such a thing and collected anything precious amongst the dead. A lot of swords that were lost in the battle fields ended up in our possession to help further trade if necessary.”

“And yet you give them out for such menial things, like Obsidian.”

“Obsidian is valuable in the North at the moment, and you know why if your precious birds haven't froze to death at the Wall.”

Jorah could tell that the Southerners not in the know were greatly confused. Varys gave Torran a serious look.

“So its true then?”

“The evidence is all around you lord Varys. Weirwood trees sprouting up all over the world, the days getting shorter, the nights getting colder. Even the moon has started to take on a strange shine.”

The Citadel could not understand the blue tint that the moon had taken for sometime now, neither did anyone else really. Jorah suspected that it was an effect of the things to come.

“Can we win?”

“Win?” Torran scoffed with a shake of his head. “We have to understand our enemy and fight them before we can even think of winning. If that is all?” Torran scowled at the other man.

“Why all the hostilities, good prince?”

“You had the Northern prisoners raped by the whores you employ all those years ago. Children were conceived from those acts.” Torran advanced towards the eunuch menacingly. “Then you used those children for your own gains when you had no such right to do any of it. Now you have the gall to ask me why I am hostile? I wasn't aware that the prick less could grow balls at the drop of a hat.”

Ser Jaime stood in Torran's way to halt him. Jorah came up behind him and Ser Barristan and Ser Loras were at Torran's side, the latter placing a hand on the princes shoulder. Prince Torran gave him a sideways glance before he turned back to the target of his ire.

“The only reason you are still alive is because these lands belong to the girl several thousand feet in the sky. She decides whether you live or die. And right now you are useful to her – are we finished here?”

Jorah almost groaned at the reply. Why couldn't this just be over?

“Yes, the matter of the Greyjoy's must be discussed.”

“And why should I give a damn about the squids? They're not exactly important.”

“Because the Lady Asha Greyjoy is here in the Capitol. She wishes to speak to you and Queen Daenerys.”

* * *

  
Fools. That's all the Southerners were. They had forgotten what it meant to be afraid. No better time than the present to remind them. He raised an icy hand towards the sky. The Moon had fallen under his influence and now the Sun would join.

He curled his fingers and through the clouds he could see the red tint the Sun was taking. When the two merge, my victory is assured, He thought viciously. People would look to the sky and wonder why the dawn would never come. They would despair because of the actions of their ancestors.

He paused in his actions and turned to the effigies of his parents. Stone carved into the form of his father, Lonn of house Stark, and ice formed into the image of his mother, Tamina the true Queen of the North.

“They murdered you both because they said your union was unnatural. Like mating with a wild beast or like siblings being in love. They followed the Valyrians with no problem after you were gone.” The hypocrisy made his blood boil. What did dragons have that they didn't. The dragons had returned now, their leader was nothing more than a girl playing at war. She would be made to see her precious beasts get slaughtered and joined with his thralls.

“They destroyed your image, your good name. Time has made them forget you. I will remind them. I will make them remember why they once feared the dark.” He brought a hand to his mothers face and another to rest on his father's shoulder. He had been a babe when they were killed. His slumber beneath the rotted Weirwood had educated him to the ignorance of the continent. He knew their weaknesses, their flaws. These new Weirwood trees meant nothing to him, and neither did those bitches who thought to guard the passageways from him and his army.

He scowled and turned away from his parents to look over his many thralls. They all snarled in the clearing of snow. They were restless as the dead often were.

“Soon my pets, soon.” King Lyal patted the natural crown in his head with a wicked smile. “Soon we will conquer the world, starting with the Wall.” He raised his hands and the snarling got louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There shouldn't be that many chapters left to write before the epilogue. Hopefully you all enjoyed this.


	31. Chapter 31

“So you wish for me to bribe the house of Royce?”

Prince Torran gave her a look as he retorted, “Southerners love their bribes, they love bartering their children away for land and such but this is not a bribe.”

“Then what is it?” She demanded with a hint of impatience. She didn't have time for games, not now.

“A way to settle matters in the Vale with very little bloodshed. Returning Lamentation to the Royce family will go a long way in doing so. Surely you remember the feeling you had when Dark Sister and Blackfyre were presented to you? That feeling of being reunited with your family heirloom even if you never held it before it was given to you?”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. The surprise and joy she felt when her family swords were given to her the second she touched foot in Westeros was only matched by the joy she had in holding her son for the first time. Tilly Longstark and her cousins stole Blackfyre from the leaders of the Golden Company and Dark Sister had been retrieved from the North. Apparently Lord Bloodraven had taken it with him after he committed the act of kinslaying and joined the Night's Watch.

The Bronze sword engraved with the Runes of the First Men was on the table in front of her. Giving it back to its owners would definitely gain some sort of favor with house Royce. She wasn't sure just how it would win her the Vale and she said as such.

“Because I suggest you name them Lords Paramount of the Vale and Wardens of the East.”

“You would have her grace overlook the heirs to house Arryn?” Ser Jorah said skeptically.

“What heirs?” Prince Oberyn added with a frown. “Jon Arryn's sons all died. His nephews are dead as well. His sisters may have had sons but they do not bear the Arryn name and don't have the political pull to have someone fight for their claim. The one who would have inherited after Robert Arryn died is dead as well.”

“What of the Arryn's of Gulltown?” Ser Barristan asked.

“Nothing more than jumped up bastards and cutthroats. Or so the Vale Lords would say.” Prince Torran shrugged at him then turned to her. “They are a proud lot your grace, the Andals first came to Westeros in the Vale, their lines are some of the oldest in Andal Nobility. But they forget that the Royce's have lived in the Vale before the Andals arrived. Their blood is of the First Men, just watered down. They don't blazon their coat of arms with the old runes for nothing and their motto is not just mere words.”

“Of course, they are only just one option your grace.”

Dany wasn't a fool, no matter what anyone said. From here on out, Prince Torran and Prince Oberyn would try to make her see that the house of Royce was the best option. They would advise her to spurn other candidates, much like her ancestor had done in the Reach when he conquered these lands. Quentyn wouldn't be of help since he would most likely side with his family.

“I will think on it,” She said. It was all she could do at the moment. She then eyed the silent spymaster. “Tell me, Varys, what does Asha Greyjoy want with Prince Torran and myself?”

“I know not your grace, she has been here for days and mostly she just takes up with whores and gambles.”

“How many days has she been here?”

“Today is the fifth.”

“And she's done nothing suspicious in that time?” That she found suspicious, given what she heard about the Iron Born and their culture.

“When she first arrived, she claimed to be a girl named Yara from the Step Stones. Other than that, shes been very well behaved. When you came here your grace, she had a message sent to me through one of my birds.”

“I guess your birds aren't as good as you think they are, if a squid could figure out that they worked for you.”

“Are you absolutely sure that she hasn't done anything suspicious?” She interrupted the potential squabble. What Varys had done was ghastly and she would find a suitable punishment for him...after the conflict in the North, not before.

“I am positive your grace.” Varys said with an irritated frown which he sent towards Prince Torran.

“Then I will see what she wants. Alone.” The knights in her service and Quentyn opened their mouths before she cut them off. “If she makes any demands of me, and if they are reasonable, I may grant them but I will do so without you. Who knows how she will react if any of you come with me. I cannot speak for the Prince.”

Torran sighed when she turned to him, “I'll go along. I could use a laugh and a talking squid might just do the trick.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I'm sure your sworn swords would appreciate it if Prince Oberyn came with us.”

“Very well.” Daenerys said with a nod after thinking about it. Prince Oberyn was a good negotiator and could do away with any annoyances that could arise. His handling of Mace Tyrell's surrender outside the Capitol was masterful. She turned to Varys. “Send for her.”

* * *

  
When she first cast her eye on the Lady Asha Greyjoy, she thought that she was looking at the living embodiment of the sea. Hair tied back in a hasty braid that wasn't finished and made her knotted hair seem like wild currents. She lounged lazily on the chair after she had been introduced, looking like a shallow tide that had no plans to draw back into the sea.

She smiled an easy smile that seemed to suggest that she was calm but her eyes held a different story.

“Nice of you to see me, your grace.”

Her tone bordered on sarcasm and a little bit of contempt but Dany could hear the faintest amount of respect.

“Lady Asha, I find myself intrigued as to what an Iron Born could want with me.”

“Or me.”

Lady Greyjoy eyed the young prince up and down and seemed to nod in approval. Torran bristled for some strange reason.

“I have a proposition for the both of you,” Asha plucked a few grapes from the table and popped them into her mouth. “You all need a way to travel North – I can give you one. Or eighty ways.”

“We have ways of getting North,” Torran said dismissively. “We don't need you.”

“If Lady Sansa wants her babe to survive to term, she'll have to stop opening the passageways or else.”

Daenerys barely had time to blink before Torran had appeared in front of the other woman, holding a blade under her throat. Dany had to adjust her stance to see around Torran and get a look at her face. How did she know that Sansa was one of the people involved with opening the passageways? And how did she know about her unborn child?

“What the fuck did you just say?” Torran growled out to the calm looking woman.

“Torran,” Oberyn said warningly.

“She just threatened your wife-”

“She has you by the balls. Look down.” The younger prince did as he was told. Dany looked down as well and could see the glint of steel between Torran's legs. Slowly, Torran removed the blade from Asha's throat.

“That's a good boy,” Asha coughed slightly and had the audacity to laugh. “Now back away. It wouldn't do to have you ball less now would it?”

“You were supposed to be disarmed.” Daenerys said mildly, giving Torran a slight glare. Control yourself, she wanted to say. He glared right back, you don't get to tell me what to do, his eyes seemed to say.

“Well, your security is a bit lax, they didn't bother to check me properly.” Asha shrugged, sheathing her dirk in her sleeve. “A girl has to defend herself sometimes, lest she become a victim.”

“I would hardly call you a girl or a victim, sea bitch.” Torran sneered at her. Asha Greyjoy chortled at his words.

“Oh yes, you'll do nicely.” She muttered under her breath but they all heard her. Daenerys frowned as the other woman continued. “And I did not threaten your wife,” She added to Oberyn. “I was just relating some information to you from a mutual friend.”

“And what friend is that?” Oberyn asked suspiciously.

“The King who knelt.”

Torran spoke after a moments hesitation, “Prove it.” He snarled at her. Asha responded by speaking in older, harsher language that made Torran go pale and take a step back. He stared at her incredulously and Daenerys was sure that her face mirrored his and Oberyn's. No one outside of those who ventured to other side knew how to speak the Old Tongue, so how could Lady Greyjoy?

Daenerys herself had been interested in learning, one of her grandmothers was a Blackwood and it would be nice to bring back what was lost to these lands but she never found the time.

“No it can't be,” Torran murmured. “You Iron Born scum have always claimed that you were pure salt and iron. Your First Men ancestors renounced any claim to the Old Gods and joined with the Drowned God.”

“My people have forgotten the history, aye, and as much as my holy uncle would like to deny it, we felt something when the Weirwood trees grew on our islands.” Asha replied softly, something that seemed uncharacteristic in Dany's mind.

She walked over to the younger Prince and placed a hand on his cheek. “I am not your enemy. I am here to help and your namesake will vouch for me.”

Torran eyed her with skepticism, and removed her hand from his face.

“I'll listen to you. Don't make me regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I predict two more chapters before an official epilogue will take place. Maybe I'll do an appendix as a bonus.


	32. Chapter 32

Sansa sighed as she dealt with a fussy Alyssa.

“No dess!” The little girl whined from the bed, her tiny feet kicking at the dress in Sansa's hands.

“But you wore a dress the other day,” Sansa said soothingly. “And you would look so pretty in this one.”

“No dess!”

The shriek made Sansa wince and she lost her grip on the small dress for a moment. It was enough for her step daughter to kick it away from her and onto the floor.

“Your blood is of the Storm but gods be good, you act like Arya.” Sansa muttered bending over to pick up the fallen dress.

“You say that as if it is a bad thing.”

Sansa stopped herself from jumping a foot in the air by sheer force of will. She still held a hand to her heart to calm herself, forgetting the dress for a moment.

“I told you to stop doing that,” She all but snapped as Arya shrugged and stepped out from where she was hiding. She picked up the dress and threw it onto a chair with a wrinkled nose. She gave Sansa a smile.

“I know but its so much fun to scare you,” Arya walked up to Alyssa and began to tickle the girl under her chin. “She's cute for being Robert's bastard.”

“Arya,” Sansa began over her daughter's giggles.

“She's a babe, she doesn't understand what I'm saying.” Sansa looked at her sister in annoyance as Arya just dismissed the things she was about to say. “I could tell her that up is down and that black is white and she wouldn't care. Mentioning Robert Baratheon in front of her is not a problem. Not yet at least.”

“I doubt that we'll ever need to mention it.” If they ever get to the point where it needed to be mentioned was another thing entirely.

“Considering that she and my husband look so much alike, she will doubtless have questions as she grows.” When Sansa said nothing, Arya's eyes went to her sisters middle. “How is your babe?”

“Fine,” Sansa said with a slight grimace. “If I had known that I was putting her in danger, I would have stopped opening the passageways immediately.” And damn King Torrhen for not telling me sooner.

“I wish I was strong enough to do it myself,” Arya scowled before she smiled as Alyssa took her hand and began to gum at it. “None of that now.” Arya picked up the little girl and began to bounce her. “As I was saying, I wish that I could do it myself. That way the Ironborn slut-”

“Arya!” Sansa squawked in indignation. “Not in front of Alyssa!”

“She-”

“Slut!” Alyssa said happily then began to repeat it just as happily.

“Oh,” Arya said sheepishly and handed over the girl when Sansa held her hands out with a glare. “How was I supposed to know that she would repeat it?” Arya added defensively.

“Because when she hears something new, she repeats it. You've seen her do it.” Sansa rubbed her face tiredly and frowned. The little girl already knew more swear words now than Sansa did at her age and now she knew another one.

“Suh,” Alyssa pushed at her face. “Mile.” Alyssa gave her a gummy smile as if to show Sansa what she meant. Sansa laughed quietly and smiled back.

“Come, lets go for a walk.”

* * *

After handing Alyssa off to Ellaria, who seemed amused at their daughters ever growing vocabulary, Sansa took her sister by the hand and lead them around the Water Gardens. It had been closed for days now, due to the weather getting colder and Doran was afraid that the children could get sick. It had gotten so cold that Sansa could wear a fur coat during the day if she felt it was necessary. The red sun hadn't helped matters either.

“You were thinking it, you know.” Sansa gave Arya a look. “You were thinking that Asha Greyjoy is a slut just as much as I do.”

“I was actually thinking many things but that was not one of them.”

“Then what would you call her then?” Arya asked with a frown.

“Smart if a bit greedy,” Sansa sat on a bench and patted the spot next to her.

“Smart?!” Arya shouted with an incredulous look. “How in Seven Hells is she smart?!”

“If you sit down and listen, I will tell you.” Sansa almost grimaced then, she sounded a little too much like their mother and she doubted that Arya appreciated it. Judging by the look on her sisters face, she was right. “Please Arya, sit down.”

Her pleading earned her a huff but Arya sat down next to her and glared.

Sansa sighed through her nose, a habit she had picked up from her siblings who had picked it up from their father. “While an argument could be made that Asha Greyjoy acted in selfishness, she acted for the preservation of her people. Mainly the ones willing to bend their knees.”

“And how does forcing our brother to fuck her until she is with child play to that?!”

Sansa remained patient as she spoke, “Torran is not being forced to sleep with anyone, he made that choice to bed the Lady Paramount of the Iron Isles and Wardeness of the Sunset Sea all on his own.”

And she wants his child because of the protection she would receive, Sansa thought with a bit of grudging respect. Robb would never harm any of Torran's children, regardless of their mother. If anyone did harm the child, then Robb would be honor bound to retaliate in some fashion. So would Jon and Torran. Theon would probably try and reach out as well, since Asha and his uncle Rodrik are the only family that he truly has left even if with everything that's happened.

“He only did that because she wouldn't commit all eighty of the ships she promised!”

“Arya, she has one hundred and twenty ships under her command, she needs at least forty to help the Redwyne's deal a killing blow to her uncles fleet surrounding the Isles. She could do it by herself if she had all of them but she realizes that the true threat is north of the Wall.”

“Then why didn't she commit them all to us then?”

“Because if we all manage to survive this, we still need to deal with Euron Greyjoy. He's the only one left of Lord Quellon's children, the rest of his brothers died mysteriously since the war broke out. The ships in the Step Stones were his but he gave them to Asha to command. He just never suspected that she would turn on him.”

“That's what the Iron Born do.”

“Not in this case,” Sansa retorted. “The Iron Born take what they want by force. You've heard of the destruction they've caused to the Western shores even if they couldn't gain a foot hold there. Never in the history of the Continent has a proud Iron Born bent the knee to a Targaryen. A fact that Daenerys capitalized on with demands of her own.”

“Never shall the Drowned god or the Old Way be worshiped or practiced in Westeros again. Never shall house Greyjoy take the Kraken for their sigil.” Arya rolled her eyes. “That still doesn't explain why Daenerys gave her all those titles.”

“Because she is emulating her ancestor. When people willingly bent their knees to Aegon, whether through defeat or otherwise, he helped them to their feet and named them Lords Paramount and Warden of whatever region they were from. Asha willingly came to Daenerys and negotiated her terms of surrender. Wanting her people to survive is admirable,” She ignored Arya's snort of disbelief.

Arya probably didn't understand that Daenerys was building up potential allies and rewarding them was one way to do it. Sansa had been told that she planned to name Stannis Baratheon Lord Paramount of the Eastern Isles and Warden of the Narrow Sea when he swore his fealty due to not wanting the ancestral seat of her house and because he was actually a competent ruler of his lands though she was loathe to admit it out loud.

Daenerys even settled the inheritance for Tommen, as he would inherit Storm's End with all its lands and incomes regardless if Renly married or not. A fact that probably gave Renly Baratheon some sense of relief.

Some would say that Daenerys was too generous but then the Dragon Queen reminded them why you shouldn't trifle with her or her dragons. Some Lords had found that out the hard way.

“And demanding to be named leader of the Iron Isles with her children inheriting the title is not unreasonable. Where she got greedy, in my opinion, was her demands that whether she has a girl first, true borne or otherwise, be recognized as her her heir first and foremost. And should it be a bastard child, then Daenerys must legitimize them.” Sansa continued.

“Because that is not the way of the Westerosi except here in Dorne,” Arya nodded thoughtfully. Sansa was glad that she was listening and thinking about what they discussing instead of just being huffy. “Even Robb is doing something similar but he's not forcing the whole of the North to do the same.”

“No he isn't,” She caught Nymeria, the wolf, walking towards her and Arya, who stood and ran to her wolf. They had rarely been separated from one another since Robb sent her here but Nymeria left every so often. Mainly to train her cubs, one of which padded their way to her. “Hello Ice.”

Sansa cooed at the smoky grey pup with blue eyes. Ice yipped at Sansa then stood on her hind legs and placed her dirty paws in Sansa's lap. Sansa didn't mind one bit as she petted her new wolf that was already getting bigger. She would always miss Lady but she was grateful for the presence of Ice who was named after the ancestral sword of her family and her ice blue eyes. No one knew who the father was but Robb said that some of the River Lords were on the look out for any male Direwolf so it could be sent here with the rest.

That was one part of his plan, keeping the wolves away from the fight to protect her and the family. Part of her thought it was foolish, even with Robb's reasoning. The wolves would die to protect them should the need arise. Plus, Robb said that he couldn't bring himself to watch Grey Wind die or worse, become a slave to this false king. He wouldn't have the strength to destroy his companion.

“And should anything happen to me, I want Grey Wind protecting my wife and children. I know that the other wolves would do the same.”  
Sansa couldn't help but agree with his words. She had already seen it happen with Rebekah and now with Lady Nym who was pregnant with Torran's second child. Sansa tried not to blush as she thought back to the day of conception. She had been looking for Brienne and had found her in a rather...compromising position. To this day Brienne still couldn't look her in the eye.

So many babes, She thought, still petting Ice who nosed at her stomach. The only ones that didn't have any babes in their bellies were Arya and Ellaria and those who had not coupled with anyone like Allyria or the Wildling Osha. Even Meera was with child courtesy of her husband Theon. Their marriage had been a secret at first, until Arya had discovered them kissing and basically harassed them so badly that Theon shouted at her to leave them alone as their were allowed to do such things as husband and wife.

Sansa lifted her pup off of the ground and placed her into her lap with a sigh. She was going to be an aunt a few times over. She should be happy. She should be planning their weddings and that of her unwed brothers. But outside of creating some banners for Torran, Jon, and Rebekah, Sansa couldn't find it in her heart to do much more than worry.

“Oh Ice,” She cuddled her wolf who whined at her distress. “If only things could get better.”

There was a gasp of surprise and other exclamations of shock around her. She looked around to see people, even her sister looking up into the sky. Sansa looked as well, ignoring the howling from the wolves including her own to take in a rather frightening sight.

The light from the red sun had dimmed and the blue moon had appeared. It slowly moved to cover the sun and when the two merged there was a quick flash of purple light and the sky darkened. The only source of light was a purple ring surrounding the area where the sun and the moon were.

“Gods,” Sansa started to cry and held her whimpering wolf closer to her. She felt a lone tear leave her eye before she felt it freeze. She held out her hand and snowflakes fell into it.

The Long Night is here, She thought as she felt, more than saw, her sister join her. The War for the Dawn begins in earnest.

* * *

  
Lyal grunted, hands falling to his sides. He looked up to admire his work and ignored the shrieks from four of his generals as they shattered then withered away in the wind. Dark Magic always had its price but he wasn't the one who needed to pay, not when he had enough sacrifices to do it for him. He turned to his wife and daughter, who seemed rather shaken by what he just did.

“I would sacrifice them all if it meant our victory would be assured. But I will never harm you.” He reminded them. The magical energy of his men and Thralls were tied to him but not theirs. Never theirs. He wouldn't risk them like that. “I am the true king of Westeros, you are my queen and you are my heir.”

“As you say your grace,” His wife, Ylla, murmured. Lonna, his daughter, stared at him wide eyed.

“Make no mistake, we will inherit this earth.” He vowed fiercely before looking out towards the direction they were heading. “And the road to victory is paved with the blood and bones of our enemies.”

Here I come Southerners, He thought. Challenge me and look upon your death.


	33. Chapter 33

**Fifth Month, Second Day, 304 AL**

Five long years had come and gone with the Long Night still plaguing the world. Torrhen watched it all with a hard heart.

“Its just down to you two now.” He muttered, grabbing two figurines off of his table. One was in the likeness of Robb, the other was in the likeness of Lyal. Both were his kin to varying degrees but only one had his support whatever that was worth. Both were young and stupid but Robb fought for the side of life, for something resembling freedom. Lyal, on the other hand, wanted to destroy things he disliked, wanted to bend people to his will.

In the five years past, many lives had been lost but the living had held strong. Torrhen had always known about the horrors of war but he closed his eyes when he thought of those who perished. The Greatjon had been one to come to his mind first. The giant of a man roared out in pain when he was swarmed by wights. His roar turned into a laugh when he grabbed a sphere of the mixture that prince Oberyn had made.

“Die you bastards!”

Those were his last words before he slammed the sphere against a rock. The mixture had ignited the Wildfire soaked ground and set every thing within fifty feet away from the Wall on fire before spreading outwards.

“Father, no!” Smalljon and his brother screamed and demanded that they be let go by those holding them back. The Greatjon died laughing until his laughter could no longer be heard.

That had been a set back for Lyal since he lost a lot of his foot soldiers that day. In response to this, he made a devastating move by using the Horn of Winter. He still felt the need to sacrifice his men to power it but Torrhen knew that it was unnecessary. He still dealt a huge blow to Robb's forces when the Wall cracked and collapsed. Not even Torrhen's warning had been enough to save them all.

The Magic that powered the Wall was still in effect and none of Lyal's forces could move past the point where the Wall had been except the Wights. For all his knowledge, he was still inexperienced in things. He didn't think to raise any Ice Spiders or Ice Dragons or use and Glaciers to sail down South. All he thought about was marching his army down and stun the enemy with seeing their dead companions fighting against them.

It was a tactic that only worked so far and the living were more incensed that such a vile act was taking place and had been for the past five years.

Torrhen felt that do to his young age, Lyal wasn't strong enough to raise the hell that his parents had. It showed when he only made it snow in Westeros and not the rest of the world like the last Long Night. It also showed in the fact that he had to sacrifice his own men to sustain his spell on the sun and moon. He had even broken his word and drained the life from his daughter in an act of desperation.

Robb wasn't perfect, but he was a good listener which was shocking, considering those of his generation could be absolute fuckers sometimes. He listened to the advice of his men and formed his own conclusions. There were enough times where his decisions came with grave consequences, like where he sacrificed two thousand men just to capture that sister fucker, Jaime Lannister.

Torrhen sighed, that wasn't fair of him. Jaime was Lann's descendant, which meant that house Lannister was named after one of the First Men. Tywin Lannister wanted a legacy that would last for thousands of years. It was almost a shame that he hadn't realized that he was already in one. Jaime gave his life to a Queen that resented him but was touched enough to recognize his valor. Torrhen respected her plans to not only honor him, but the other two Knights that died for her.

“Well,” He sighed, placing Robb's figurine on one side of the table and Lyal on the other. “In a Clash of Kings, the strongest reigns supreme.”

* * *

 

Robb grunted as he placed the last banner in the snow. This one was Rickon's, three black Direwolves on lavender and grey. Next to his was Bran's, two blue Direwolves in a green roundrel on grey. Both were made to reflect their positions as second and third sons. It was also done to reflect their betrothals, or in Bran's case, marriage to Wylla Manderly.

Robb had snorted at the insanity of getting married in times like these. But Bran had been adamant to see it done.

“What better way to help morale and stick it to that bastard made of ice?”

He had a point, Robb was forced to admit but it had done the job. The morale that had been going down had indeed gone up. The marriage and betrothals gave people hope and reminded them that they didn't need to let Lyal take everything from them.

Robb looked at the line of banners that went all the way down where the Wall used to stand strong. Arya's new banners along with his Bannerman and the Banners of all the Great Houses joined them. Robb had never been more proud to be Westerosi when he saw how united they were in this time of war.

He walked down to where his Good Brother, Prince Oberyn stood under a banner of three red snakes on yellow. This was his personal banner from his days as a sellsword. Torran stood next to him, under his banner of a green Direwolf on orange and yellow.

“Your grace,” Both of them nodded to him, each looking grim. Neither had sustained any serious injuries but their faces had been scarred a few times.

“Brothers,” Robb nodded back. He looked over to the other banner of an orange Direwolf on red and grey. “How is Jon?”

“Spitting mad that he can't be here but King Torrhen said that his spine wouldn't be realigned if he left the healing pools anytime soon so...” Torran trailed off with a shrug. Jon had taken a nasty tumble when he fell off of his dragon. He had been relegated to the healing pools that were filled with red sap for a few days now. Rhaegal, his dragon, was upset about what happened to Jon and was staying with him to keep him company.

“And will Obara be joining us?”

“Yes, she is seeing to her children,” Oberyn answered with a sideways glance towards Torran.

“I already said my goodbyes, Oberyn, my boys will be safe.”

“Hmm,” Oberyn made a non committal sound and looked forwards. Though he loved his grandsons, Jordan and Alyn, he did not approve of their conception in a time like this. Robb could remember when Oberyn raged at Torran in what he felt was a lapse in judgment. Torran stood there and listened but it was the words from his daughter had knocked the wind out of his sails.

“It takes two to make a child and I was very willing to fuck Torran,” Obara had snapped at her father the day he found out that she was pregnant. “He needed someone to comfort him after he lost one of his brothers! If you're going to yell at him, you better yell at me as well.”  
Robb's eyes drifted to the yellow Direwolf on grey and blue, the sigil of House Greystark, when he thought on what Obara said. Theon had been dead for sometime now, crushed by pieces of the Wall as it collapsed. The Greystark name would still live on in his daughter, Thea, who would be a Princess of the Greyfort should they be victorious today.

“Robb,” Torran snarled, glaring at something in front of him. Robb turned to see their kinsman walking towards them with a few of his generals and nearly a hundred wights. Lyal glared at their line as he stopped in his tracks. Robb readied himself and he felt more than saw, the forces behind him do the same.

Drogon, who had been flying above them came in for a landing just outside of their area of protection. Queen Daenerys was sat on the back of her beloved dragon but she also had a passenger with her. Lyal looked shocked as he watched his wife climb off of the back of Drogon.

“Ylla,” Lyal murmured but his wife spat a glob of ice in his direction.

“Oathbreaker,” She hissed. “Kinslayer.”

“My love,” Lyal said desperately. Ylla just held up her daughters necklace in response.

“You lied to our daughter, to me,” Robb gripped Ice tightly as she kept speaking. He granted her request to speak with her husband, but he did so under the assumption that she would ask him to surrender. Now, he watched Lyal's face crumble before it hardened.

“They asked me to get you to surrender, but I'll gladly watch you die.”

Lyal said nothing but he did raise his hand quickly in the direction of his wife. Ylla began to choke then shatter into many pieces. Daenerys screamed in High Valyrian to her dragon and a torrent of fire shot out of its mouth.

Lyal raised his hand in that direction and the fire hit an invisible shield. The rest of his generals started to shatter as he absorbed them to hold the shield nearly broke. Robb drew his sword and took off in a run.

“For Westeros!” He roared to the approval of his fellow Westerosi. Lyal glanced his way and snarled. The false king disabled his shield and rolled to the side, the fire going over him. He retrieved his scythe from his back and charged at Robb.

They both swung their blades which met each other with a loud clang. And though it was loud, It wasn't enough to drown out the sounds of battle around them.

“Bastard,” Lyal snarled after Robb blocked a rather vicious swing and managed to cut him in the side.  
Robb said nothing, his was too busy dodging and blocking. He swung at Lyal's legs but Lyal jumped over and rolled behind Robb who screamed when he felt the scythe cut into his flesh.

“There's more of that to come,” Lyal taunted him.

Robb spun on his heel and swung his sword. It was blocked of course but the force of the strike was enough to make Lyal wobble on his feet.

He disarmed Robb and swung his blade rapidly, hoping to catch him several times.

Robb dodged everyone one of them, albeit barely given the speed of them. On the last dodge Robb grabbed a obsidian dagger from his side and stabbed Lyal in the leg then stuck him like a pig. He snapped the blade, leaving a huge piece of it in the false king who gripped him by the shoulder and threw him away.

Robb cried out when he felt his wound open even more. Despite the pain he hastened to his feet. The edges of his vision started to blur and he felt faint.

I've lost too much blood, He thought with a hint of despair. He would never see his family again. Never hold them, never tell them how much he loved them. He looked up into the sky and saw that the sun was coming through and he smiled sadly. At least they would see the sun again.

He looked over to Lyal who held a hand to his bad leg. He then looked over to Ice which was just behind Lyal. Robb knew what he had to do.

“Ancestors, lend me your strength,” He murmured as he started to run towards Lyal. The false king planted his feet and readied his weapon. Robb let out a roar that had built up as a growl in his chest. He wasn't sure if he had done it to be intimidating or if he had taken leave of his senses but he'd done it all the same.

Now, Robb! A voice that sounded so much like his fathers yelled in his mind. Robb hopped off of his feet and dropped to the ground, sliding in the direction he was going. He slid under Lyal who thought that Robb was jumping in to him and swung where Robb was.

Robb clipped Lyal by the bad leg, forcing him to his knee with a roar of pain. Robb ignored the pain in his back and reached a hand out to grasp his sword. When he felt the handle slide into his hand he rolled over to slow down. When he finally stopped he shot to his feet and started running the other way.

He raised his sword above his head and jumped towards Lyal. He brought Ice down on Lyal's head. Lyal only had enough time to turn his head toward him and nothing else. The Valyrian blade cut through him like nothing. The magic in his body responded negatively to this and a concussive blast sent Robb flying through the air.

He landed roughly on the ground and knocked his head against it. He had lost his hold on Ice and now he was starting to lose consciousness. He could vaguely hear people calling him by name or as 'your grace' but one voice stood out the most.

'You'll be alright Robb, just hold on.'

He let the darkness take him after hearing his father speak.

* * *

All around the world, people who had been hiding away stepped out into the first light of day. Those that had suffered the most from the sun being gone wailed happily or just cried tears of joy at the sight. The war was over, and they were victorious.

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

**Fourth Month, Tenth Day, 328 AL**

“Oh come now,” Torran cooed to the whimpering babe in his arms. “You've met Robb before, you know he makes it out alive.”

Desmond Blackwater, one of his grandsons, whimpered still.

“Give him here father,” His daughter Torra said irritably. “You know he doesn't like that story.”

“Yes he does,” Torran handed his grandson back to his daughter reluctantly. The babe buried his face into her neck. “He just doesn't like that bit.”

“You could always just skip that part.”

“Then I would be telling a lie and breaking tradition. I've told the story in full to you and your siblings and I have done the same for my grandchildren.”

He was barely past forty five years now and he had so many children and a few grandchildren it was almost surreal.

His daughter, his first namesake, rolled her eyes in manner very reminiscent of her mother, Ros.

“Father,” Ser Endrew Galladon, his son by Brienne, called to him from the doorway. “Princess Sansa and Princess Arya say that it is time.”

Endrew was definitely his son in looks save for the sapphire blue eyes of his mother. He was probably the most stiff of his children, completely taken with the idea of duty, much like his mother. Like most of his children, Endrew wasn't planned but Torran had raised him and trained himself just like with his other children.

“Thank you my son,” Torran murmured with a smile. Endrew didn't smile back except with his eyes. As they walked into the hall way, his other sons, Ser Alyn and Ser Jordan Blacksand joined them.

Torran knew that there was some resentment from his older children towards these two. They were the first that he held and he had been there for their birth. Torran couldn't stop them from feeling that way but he could make his love for them known to help soothe any wounds that could have festered if he didn't.

* * *

 

Sansa had blossomed with her marriage and motherhood, looking more beautiful now than she did before. Having three children with Oberyn seemed to help with the pain and torment she endured all those years ago. A fact which made everyone in the family happy.

Arya, surprisingly, had become a great mother to her brood of six considering she had despaired at the idea when she was younger. She had hardly changed when it came to martial pursuits, but she was perhaps a little too soft on her children, afraid that if she was too hard on them, they would resent her.

Torran grasped his wife's hand and that of their paramour, Rebekah.

“Has the day finally arrived,” He wondered. “That little Lemore will marry her horse prince?”

“Stop calling him that,” Nym swatted at one of his shoulders, Rebekah did the same to the other. “You know he hates that name.”

“That boy is going to marry my niece, I'll call him what I like.” The way he acted was partially a farce, they all knew. But they also knew that he was fiercely protective of all the children in his family. Lemore was his brothers first born child and Jon had cried tears of joy at seeing his daughter for the first time. No one would ever truly be good enough for her.

“He should be glad that all I do is say things as opposed to other things.” Torran just shrugged off the next two swats he received.

“If I didn't know any better, I would have said you were Oberyn's child,” Ellaria commented lightly from his side. “Given the fact that he said similar things about prince Rhaegar.”

“Well if I was it would explain all the children,” Torran said thoughtfully and with a grin. “And the little dragon blood that Oberyn has would explain away my marriage.”

This time he received two slaps to the head along with some whining from his children.

* * *

 

Jon was both happy and unhappy this day, Tyene noted. He well and truly loved their daughter but this marriage was made politically, something that Jon was never adept at. Tyene understood better even if she didn't like it.

Lemore's birth had been troubling, given that she was born during the second Long Night. Tyene was afraid that her daughter wouldn't make it but thankfully, she did along with many other children that had been conceived.

“My love, do not sulk, it is a joyous occasion.”

“My daughter is to marry the son of a horse fucker, there is nothing joyous about this,” He grumbled to her and she just rolled her eyes.

“Khal Drogo's blood runs through his veins but it is Quentyn that he calls father. He has done so since he was a babe.” You know this, she wanted to say. Rhaego had lived with them long enough for Jon to get a handle on what kind of man he could be.

“How is Lemore?” Jon changed the subject abruptly but not entirely.

“Excited but nervous, she feels that she may fall flat on her face. And no, that is not a reason to cancel the wedding.”

“If she is nervous-”

“They love each other,” Tyene's sharp rebuke caused Jon to snarl at nothing. “And this wedding has been delayed to when they were both of age and delayed a little further. We're lucky that Daenerys didn't have them get married the second Lemore flowered as they used to do.”

“Papa,” Their daughters voice drifted through their open doorway and they both turned to address their eldest.

“Darling,” Jon walked over to embrace her but she kept him at arms length.

“You'll wrinkle my dress,” She said by way of explanation. “And mother spent too long picking this out for it to get messy now.”

Jon put his arms behind his back and straightened his posture, “My apologies.” His voice was flat and borderline harsh.

“Don't be like that,” Lemore's eyes started to water. “I love you papa, make no mistake about that.”

Her words were sincere but her little tears were slightly fictitious. Tyene knew that her daughter was frustrated with Jon but she also knew that she could wrap her father around her finger if she wanted to.

“As much as I love you, I will not let you ruin my day.” Lemore sniffed and scowled at her father. Her daughter definitely took after her, save for the grey eyes that she got from her Northern heritage. “I love Rhaego, and have loved him since I knew what love was. Gods willing, I will bear him many children that you get to call grandchildren. But if you cannot let this be, then...”

She actually did start to cry at that moment. Jon didn't move at first but when he did, he grasped her shoulders gently and placed his forehead against hers.

“Forgive this old man, my darling.” Jon murmured. “I still remember the day when I saw you for the first time. You were about to turn six and I had missed so much. Now time has flown by and you will start a family of your own. I know that Rhaego is a good man but you are still my daughter and I'm not quite ready to give you up.”

He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, “If you truly want this marriage...then you have my blessing.”

Their first born gave him a smile that could have lit up the Long Night and tackled her father with a hug, forgetting about her dress. Tyene smiled and wiped a stray tear from her eye, making a note to reapply some powder to her face.

* * *

 

Sansa felt her husbands hand drift down the left side of her back. Ellaria's drifted down her right and she made a small noise of disapproval when they both reached her bum and squeezed. The wedding was but to begin after all and it wouldn't do to start such behavior.

“We can play after the celebration,” She quietly swatted at their hands which did not deter the two who held her heart. She was exasperated to be sure but at least she learned to stop blushing at such touches. She knew that both of them were bored and even at their age their appetites were still something to behold.

“But that wouldn't be fun now would it,” Oberyn purred in her ear. Someone standing close by turned around to stare at them in disgust. Sansa glared back, blue eyes fierce. The person, who probably heard the exchange and wanted to tell them off, squeaked in fright and turned back to the front. Both Ellaria and Oberyn chuckled and resumed what they were doing.

Sansa sighed through her nose as she shifted her glare to them both, “Since you two can't behave, I will go speak with my cousin. And you can forget about touching me tonight.” She faked a huff and stalked away making sure to give an extra sway of her hips, knowing that it would draw their gaze. She was going to pay for teasing them but she would relish the delicious rewards.

Sansa made her way quietly to Branda Myrren, Torran's half sister who stood with her own family. She greeted Sebastian of Myr, Branda's husband and father of her children, with a kiss to the cheek. She kissed Lara next, then Sebastian the younger or 'Ser Bash' as he was known.

Finally, she greeted Branda with a warm hug. Branda didn't trust much outside of her family after she was taken away from Kings Landing all those years ago. But they had grown close during the dark times and Sansa's son, Rickard, was courting Lara and it seemed like a sure thing.

“Sansa,” Branda smiled with warmth. “You're looking well. What happened to your lovers?” She glanced around, expecting them to appear.

“Probably pouting where I left them,” Sansa waved a hand behind her. “I wanted to watch the festivities. They wanted to do...other things.”

It had been strange being back near the place that had caused her so much torment but here, in the Gods Wood, she felt a sense of peace. Maybe it was due to the fact that there were real Weirwoods here or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, Sansa was glad for it.

Branda smiled knowingly, “And you weren't interested.” Her tone of voice suggested that she already knew the truth of the matter.

“A woman does not speak of such things.” Sansa sniffed but she smiled as well and they both shared a small laugh.

The ceremony began and they all watched as Lemore walked beside her father towards her future husband. Jon's other children, Arianna, and Jonnen II or 'Little Jon', trailed behind them with Tyene.

“Jon looks so stiff,” Branda murmured to her. Sansa couldn't help but agree. Jon was stiff as a board and he walked as if death itself was upon him. Sansa rolled her eyes. He must have got his dramatics from the Targaryen side of the family, She thought with a slight snort. Northmen were harsh and grim, hardly prone to theatrics and what she heard of Rhaegar Targaryen, he was as melancholy as they came.

Sansa didn't truly believe that until now.

“At least he hasn't tried to have Ghost bite off Rhaego's head. Not like Torran nearly did to Ser Byron.”

Ser Byron Blackwater, Ser Bronn's oldest son, was lucky that Torra stayed with him when she broke the news that she was pregnant with what would later be a girl, Ingrid Blackwater. Torran had remained calm through out the exchange, but when he requested to speak privately with Byron, and was denied, he asked Stone to bite the man which she was more than happy to do.

The words that spewed out of his mouth came in quick succession and were said very loudly. Sansa wouldn't doubt it if his words were heard by all the seven kingdoms. It was only the intervention of his children, his wife and his paramour to get Torran to calm down. In the end, he had to pay restitution to the Blackwater family and arrange a marriage between Ser Bronn's daughter and his son Orin.

Torra did not speak to him until after her daughter was born so that he could know his granddaughter. Even then it took them awhile to fully reconcile. 

“I doubt they would appreciate it,” Sansa nodded to Rhaego's family. Daenerys was a vision of beauty and while some would say that Quentyn looked like mud in comparison to her, he still held himself with the dignity befitting his station as well as a quiet sort of strength. The three members of their honor guard flanked them.

Their children stood strong and in support of their brother. Princess Maerys, who married the Yronwood heir not too long ago, took her father's coloring but with her mother's hair and eyes. She dressed in a simple gown, not wanting to upstage her mother or her soon to be good sister.

And Prince Duncan, newly knighted and dressed in white and orange armor, reminded Sansa of his father, quiet but strong, despite the fact that he looked the most Valyrian. Not even Rhaego looked completely Valyrian, with his skin being lightly kissed by the sun and his eyes shaped in the image of his blood father.

As they approached the prince and his party, Sansa could hear quiet sniffling from just behind her. She turned to see a teary eyed Septa watching the ceremony with a sense longing. She glanced at Sansa and the northern princess nearly leaned back in shock as Tyene's eyes stared right back at her.

This was Tyene's mother and Lemore's namesake. Oberyn had failed to mention that she would be here. Not that Sansa minded in the least, she was welcome of course. But she wasn't sure if a surprise would be welcome now, even if it was well intentioned.

Sansa shook herself slightly and offered her arm to the woman with a look of understanding. Branda made a noise of confusion at the gesture but Sansa ignored her for now. She hoped that she conveyed to the Septa that she was welcome to join her even without expressing it verbally.

Lemore the elder looked at her in confusion before she glanced down at her Martell pendant which caused her dark blue eyes to widen in surprise. She stared at Sansa incredulously.

Sansa gave a nod of encouragement when the older woman hesitated. Lemore took her arm and sided up to her.

“Thank you,” She whispered gratefully. Sansa just smiled and nodded before turning back as the Septon spoke.

“Who comes here before the gods this day,” He intoned with slight bewilderment. It wasn't everyday that the High Septon performed a marriage in the Gods Wood and with different words to begin with.

“Princess Lemore of the house Martell comes here to be wed.” Jon replied dutifully and Sansa felt her nieces grandmother shake with joy beside her. Sansa reached to grab the other woman's hand and squeezed in comfort. “A woman grown, true borne and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods.”

“And who comes to claim her?” The Septon looked at Rhaego who cleared his throat.

“Prince Rhaego, of house Targaryen. Heir to the Six united Kingdoms and future King. True borne and noble. I come to claim her as my wife.” He blanched slightly when he looked at Jon but he didn't stumble through his words. Sansa had to give him credit for that.

“And who gives her?” The Septon's bushy eyebrows gave Jon a pointed look.

Jon sighed through his nose, “Prince Jonnen of houses Targaryen, Stark, and Martell. Her father.” The Septon nodded his head at Jon and turned to the bride.

“Princess Lemore, do you take this man?”

“I take this man as my husband,” Lemore smiled brightly at Rhaego who relaxed at her words and smiled back.

“Then you may step forward to begin the binding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. The end of this story. But you'll notice that this isn't the end of the series. I'm definitely going to do one shots and a small appendix in the coming months when I have more time. Hopefully the wait was worth it.


End file.
